Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower
by CrimsonStarbird
Summary: "We'll meet again," Jellal had promised, but as the months turned to years, Wendy came to realize that he was never coming back. That was when *he* came into her life: a man identical to her Jellal, but with no memory of her. And in return for becoming her friend, she may well be the key he needs to infiltrate the Council and complete the Tower of Heaven... COMPLETE.
1. We Met in a Place of Darkness

_**A/N:** The year is X780. The setting is somewhere deep within the Worth Woodsea. I'll write more at the end of the chapter, so for the time being, let the story begin with a chance meeting... ~CS_

* * *

 **Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-We Met in a Place of Darkness-**

 **September, X780**

 _"JELLAL!"_

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

This should have been his moment of glory. Right now, he was supposed to be standing triumphant, in control of the powerful and dangerous unsealed magic that would form the last piece of his plan to change the world. Instead, he was crouched with his back to a boulder in the middle of a forest clearing, hardly daring to breathe for fear he might be heard, his attention torn between trying to stem the bleeding from the wound in his arm and keeping an eye on the surrounding trees for the movement of hostile shadows.

Why were the Rune Knights here? It wasn't right. It had taken him months of devotion to reach this place. He had thought of little else during that time: getting his hands on the genuine ancient and forbidden texts after many false starts; interpreting them to find the hidden location; calculating exactly how to unlock the seal and bind it to his will once he found it – that formidable task had occupied all his focus. No one else could have known it was here, least of all those fools on the Council. So why had they made their move now?

Had they followed him here? Leaving the Tower without being detected and making it safely here when the whole world was against him was always going to be a challenge, but he had taken pains to ensure that there had been no one on his tail. A coincidence, then. A scowl crossed his face as he cursed his bad luck. The guardians were tough enough without him having to evade the Knights on top of that. He hadn't been expecting such strong resistance from the forest's inhabitants. Centuries of living in the shadow of such powerful magic had mutated the wildlife beyond recognition, and the monsters who now dwelled here attacked all intruders with savage abandon.

He didn't have a name to put to the thing which had wounded him. Perhaps if you traced its lineage back far enough, it had once been a bear, but he had never seen a bear that was over twenty feet tall before, let alone one with spines larger than he was, and whose fangs dripped a green liquid which burned holes straight through the foliage. On reflection, he had been lucky to escape with such a minor injury.

Maybe, if he was lucky, the monsters and the Rune Knights would all kill each other and he could still turn this day around. Given how well his luck had been serving him so far, however, he didn't much fancy his chances.

It wasn't supposed to _be_ this way!

Sure, it wasn't the first time he had come so close to being captured by the Knights. Nor was it the first time everything had fallen apart during a mission he had planned for extensively. It was, however, the first time he had gambled so much on a move that had gone so badly wrong. He stood to lose far more than he could afford if he couldn't somehow pull a miracle out of the darkness of despair.

 _"JELLAL!"_

He was so distracted by the hopelessness of his situation that he didn't hear the girl's shout until the second time – until it was already too late.

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

The dream was always the same, and it was never like this. It began with the great white sky dragon sitting atop the hill, a queen surveying her domain, while the sunset cast her shadow across the rolling meadows of her back garden. Every time, she ran happily towards her mother, knowing in her heart that _this_ time Grandeeney really was back; every time, as she crested the hill, the silhouette was revealed to be a heap of lifeless rocks, devoid of the warmth she sought. But she wasn't alone – now that she thought about it, it wasn't sunset after all, but sunrise, and when she turned around, _he_ was there, smiling at her; holding his hand out towards her.

 _"I told you we'd meet again."_

This time, the dream was different. He looked subtly different to how he did in her memory. He was older now: taller, stronger, a little wilder. It had been over two years since he had left her, and he must have changed in that time, for she was certain her memory would not have faded. In the dream, he appeared as he had the first time she met him, always regal, fearless, powerful; the only one she felt safe with. This too was different now. There was agitation in the repeated glances he cast over his shoulder; vulnerability in the bloodstained cloth binding his arm; desperation in his torn clothes and unkempt appearance.

But it was _him_ , undoubtedly him, and that was, to her, the only thing that mattered. She called his name as she ran towards him.

 _"JELLAL!"_

Perhaps the fact that the dream was different this time meant that it might not end as all the others had. Maybe this time, when he reached for her, fulfilling the promise he had made to her on the day they had parted, she could take his hand and find it real. Maybe this time, his smile wasn't a lie. Maybe this time she wasn't alone in the night. Maybe she wouldn't wake up screaming, unable to sleep until she had run into Master Roubaul's test and curled up beside him; when the gentle way that he stroked her hair until she stopped crying was the only thing in the world that could convince her that she hadn't been abandoned by everyone.

Perhaps the fact that the dream was different this time meant that it was not a dream after all. Perhaps the memories she had of waking up before the old women in her village got up to do their chores, sneaking out of the guild, and heading into the forest on her own before the sun rose were real memories, rather than the kind her head made up while she slept. Perhaps she really had run away from the guild in order to find him.

And perhaps he really was there in front of her.

She shouted to him again. It was real. After all this time, he had finally come back for her.

 _"JELLAL!"_

No.

Why was he looking at her like that? He was supposed to be smiling. He was supposed to affirm the promise he had made to her. He was supposed to sweep her up in his arms, laughing like he used to.

"Who are you?"

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

"Jellal…?" That single word hovered on her lips. Once a joyous exclamation, now a murmur of bewilderment.

" _Who the hell are you?"_ he repeated; an accusation. He had never been angry with her before. Not in her dreams. Not in her memories. This wasn't right.

Someone whispered an answer in her voice. "Don't you… remember me?"

Reality was worse than her dreams, worse even than her nightmares. If he wouldn't reach for her, then she would reach for him; she clutched clumsily at his hand, at his clothes, seeking anything which might verify that he was real.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He didn't wait for a response. He shoved her, roughly. She fell to the ground, gazing up at him with eyes that were strangely damp. "Jellal…? Why…?" There were more words than that, but for some reason, they just weren't coming. Maybe they were trapped in the painful prickling at the back of her throat. She stared at him and didn't understand.

"Get away from me!"

After so many long days and longer nights, she had finally found him. She had written a new ending to the dream which had haunted her for so long, that dream in which everyone she had ever loved had abandoned her. It should have been the happiest moment of her life.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

She obeyed his order with tears streaming down her face, and ran from that nightmare as quickly as her feet could carry her.

* * *

"It's not like I care."

This was a problem. As if his day wasn't going badly enough already, things seemed to be slipping even further out of control. This situation was complicated enough without throwing confusion into the mix. Who the hell _was_ that girl? How did she know who he was?

It was possible she was a child who had escaped from the Tower, but he discounted that suggestion almost immediately. She was too young for that – she could have been no older than eight or nine. Besides, she didn't have the right look about her. There was an innocence in her eyes that no survivor of the Tower would ever have again. She had been brought to tears so easily, and by mere words at that. He hadn't even been trying to upset her; he had acted instinctively on a mix of bewilderment and fear. He could have done much worse if he had wanted to. It simply hadn't been necessary.

"It's not like I care," he asserted to himself once more.

If there was one stroke of good luck, it was that no Rune Knights had been drawn by the girl's careless shout. That told him the surrounding area ought to be clear. If he was going to make a run for it, it ought to be now. By the time the girl came back, he'd be long gone.

A blood-curdling roar filled the clearing. He froze with one foot in mid-air. His wounded arm gave an involuntary twitch. Angrily pushing away the fear, he forced himself to think rationally. By the sounds of things, the monster was still quite far away. There was no need to panic yet. Besides, that was the direction the girl had run in. It would find her long before it came across him.

What was a little girl doing in the Worth Woodsea anyway? Not even Rune Knights entered the dark forest willingly. Well, whatever happened to her, it was her own fault for coming here in the first place. Shrugging, he turned to leave.

This time, it was a scream of a child that stopped him in his tracks.

"It's got nothing to do with me," he vowed aloud, except it was maybe a little bit his fault that she had run blindly off into the forest. He gave the grey sky a defiant glare. "In fact, this is the perfect opportunity. She can distract the Rune Knights while I take the chance to slip deeper into the forest."

He managed two steps forward before his willpower faltered. He had many enemies, but that girl was not one of them. The way she had looked at him; the way she had called his name; that innocence, the likes of which he had not seen in a fellow human being for as long as he could remember – those memories bothered him.

"It's better if she dies. That way she won't be able to tell anyone I was here, or go around shouting out my name and giving my position away again, or…"

Guilt always chose the most inappropriate times to act, didn't it?

For the third time: "It's not like I care what happens to her."

Then: "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me."

Not entirely in accordance with his will, he had started to run in the direction of the scream. Sharp eyes darted left and right; all his senses were on high alert. He pinpointed the origin of the girl's second cry with the efficient accuracy of a hunter. Not that the beast was difficult to track – its lumbering form cut a swathe of destruction through the dense undergrowth. Nor was it well-camouflaged or at all suited to its environment; it was stray magic, not natural selection, that had determined this creature's evolution.

In the next moment it was there in front of him, even larger than he remembered, all jagged claws and lethal spikes and jaws open wide enough to swallow him whole. Some of that blood matting its fur was his. One of its blade-like claws had hooked the back of the girl's dress, lifting her inevitably towards its gaping mouth. She whimpered in fear, her eyes screwed shut against the horror of her fate.

Who in their right mind would run _towards_ such a monster?

Him, apparently. There was no time to stop and consider his own stupidity, so he could only conclude that he was no longer in his right mind as he closed his eyes mid-step and sought the source of his power in the darkness. He seized it and drew it fearlessly towards him, filling his body with light.

When he opened his eyes an instant later, everything had changed. The world around him seemed to move at half-speed through a golden haze. He was acutely aware of his own body: his heartbeat, deafening in the emptiness; the breath in his lungs; the balance on his feet; the damage to his arm; his physical weaknesses – he understood all the limitations of his own body and he knew how to overcome them. His power made it possible.

His next step became a great leap. Gravity did not hinder him; he kicked off from the ground and shot like an arrow towards the dangling girl. The monster's other claw swept down to intercept him, but it was fractionally too slow to catch him in this state, and the deadly edge passed within millimetres of his head. He tried not to think about the imminence of death – luck might not be with him today, but surely karma had to be on his side? – and focussed on grabbing the girl round the waist with his good arm.

There was a slight resistance as her dress caught on the monster's claw, but the fabric shortly gave and the two of them fell back towards the ground. He landed lightly on his feet, magic still suffusing his limbs, and pushed off again, this time launching the two of them as far away from the monster as possible. Savage jaws snapped shut an inch behind them but they were already gone, half-running and half-bounding through the forest, the girl tucked safely under his arm, traversing the rough terrain at a rate even the beast couldn't match.

Only when the sounds of pursuit no longer reached his heightened senses did he skid to a stop. He deposited the girl onto the ground and then rested his uninjured arm against a tree, using it to support his weight as the magic passed back beyond his reach. "I think we lost it," he muttered, once he had his breath back.

Not that he was going to get a moment's peace. Immediately the girl dashed over to him, throwing her arms around him and refusing to let go at his protests. His magic roiled within him, unsure of whether or not to treat this invasion of his personal space as a threat; he suppressed it with a growl.

Then the harsh reprimand he was about to give voice to died in his throat as she beamed up at him. Her tears had dried; she gazed at him wondrously with trust and gratitude. There wasn't a single ounce of doubt in those eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, and smiled at him once again with the unreserved joy that only children understood.

An automatic scowl crossed his face. "Go home," he told her bluntly. "This is no place for children."

"But…"

His attempts at shaking her off only resulted in her gripping his sleeve tightly. With an effort, he subdued his impatience and crouched down so that their eyes were at the same level. "The forest is dangerous, and I'm not going to come save you again. So go straight back home, okay?"

Why was she crying _now?_ He had saved her, hadn't he? Wasn't that enough? He wanted nothing to do with this girl. He should just have left her to become that monster's dinner.

Something to that effect must have shown on his face, because the girl shied away from him, wiping her eyes hurriedly on her sleeve. "Okay," she sniffed.

"Good."

Satisfied, he picked a direction at random to begin walking in. He had no idea where he was – his desperate flight had only carried them deeper into the labyrinth of branches and shadows. All he wanted was to put as much distance as possible between him and this girl. His eyes were peeled for the sight of Rune Knights, but he saw no one. Perhaps fortune was beginning to take his side again. If he had somehow managed to slip through their perimeter while running blindly, he might be able to pull this whole endeavour off after all.

His ears pricked up at the sound of soft footsteps, padding along complacently a little way behind his own. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me." With a quiet growl, he rounded on the girl. "Why are you following me?" he snapped. "I told you to go home!"

Embarrassed, her gaze drifted off to the side. She pushed her index fingers together. "I can't go home. I'm lost."

"Then go be lost somewhere else."

Turning again, he picked up the pace, forcing her to jog to keep up with his long strides. "Can't I come with you?"

"No, you can't. I'm too busy to babysit children."

"But it'll be just like it used to be. You and me."

Now he rounded on her again, his abruptness a manifestation of his answer. "I don't know what you're talking about. We've never met before."

She tilted her head to one side, blinking up at him with bright, curious eyes. "You really don't remember me?"

"No. And I think I'd remember if I'd met an annoying brat like you before."

"…Oh. Then…"

"Get lost, kid." Though she flinched backwards at his words, his harsh expression didn't relent. "You're not coming with me, and that's that."

Persistent little brat that she was, she only ran after him as he tried to leave once more. _"JELLAL!"_ she wailed. He winced, envisioning all the Rune Knights in the forest converging upon that noise. How could such a loud sound come from such a small child?

"Don't call me that! Someone might hear."

She frowned, trying to understand. "Then are you… not Jellal, after all? Is that why you don't remember me? But you look just like him…" She did not believe he was lying; for her, this situation had become more confusing than hurtful. "Oh! I know! Are you maybe twins?"

He'd take anything to make her stop talking. "Yeah, that's right. Jellal's my twin brother."

"Ahh." She nodded sagely, once; twice. "I get it now. I'm sorry for thinking you were him. Jellal's my best friend. I haven't seen him for a while, though… Oh! I'm Wendy, by the way."

"Okay."

There was a pause. "And you are…?"

He dragged his attention away from the surrounding forest to find her gazing up at him expectantly. "Right. Well. I'm, uh, Siegrain. Nice to meet you."

Was that the end of it now? He had hoped so, but apparently introducing yourself to an eight-year-old automatically landed you in the 'friend' category. She fell contentedly into step beside him. "Why are you in the forest, Siegrain?"

A sigh. Well, it didn't matter now, did it? "I'm looking for Nirvana. I don't suppose you'd know where it is, would you?"

"Nirvana? What's that?"

"Really powerful magic. It's sealed somewhere in this forest."

To his surprise, she stopped in her tracks. "Oh! You mean the big shiny thing?"

"Big shiny thing…?"

"Yup!" She nodded emphatically. "It's kind of… leaking. That's how I know where it is. It's half white and half black, but there's some black in the white and some white in the black, see?"

He didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but if he had been told to describe Nirvana using only colours, then going by what he had read about it, the description he would have given might not have been too far away from hers. "Wendy, do you know where Nirvana is?"

"I've never heard of Nirvana. But if it's the big shiny thing, then yup."

"Can you take me there?"

"Sure! Though, actually, Master Roubaul made me promise never to go near there…"

"It's very important that I find it, Wendy."

"Well… I did _promise_ …"

This time, he didn't hesitate to crouch down again in front of her, one hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder. "It's okay to break a promise if someone's life is in danger. You see, I need to find Nirvana because, uh, its seal is coming undone, and that means it is very dangerous to everyone in the forest. If we can find it and re-seal it, we'd be helping a lot of people."

"Oh." Her doubt only lasted for a moment. "Okay! Let's go!"

Grabbing his hand, she set off at a brisk trot. She led him on a haphazard path through the undergrowth, scrambling over enormous roots and jumping over brooks as if she hadn't a care in the world – as if she had already forgotten the monster which had almost eaten her alive. Children were so foolish… but wasn't the foolish one him, for following her so blindly? What on earth was he thinking?

"Hang on a minute." With one eye keeping a careful lookout for any signs of movement amongst the trees, he inquired, "You said you were lost earlier, so how come you know how to get to Nirvana from here?"

"I am lost." She gave him another beaming smile, causing him to groan inwardly. "But I can always find the shiny thing. It's really bright, like the sun. The sun's a long way away, but you can always see it, right?"

"I don't think I follow you."

"Well, you know how it's cloudy sometimes, but not _too_ cloudy? And the sun's there behind the clouds. You can't see it directly, but there's a little extra bright patch, and you know that the sun is over there. The shiny thing – I mean, uh, Nirvana – is like that. It's leaking, like the sunlight leaks through the clouds. I think it's getting brighter. Or maybe the clouds are getting thinner. See?"

Her juvenile similes might have made sense to another child, but he hardly had the will or the patience to try and decode the ramblings of a little girl. He had a growing suspicion, however, that there was far more to this girl than met the eye. Could she really sense Nirvana's magic, at this distance? Even he couldn't do that. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't detect even the faintest trace of it above the background noise, and yet she was leading him through the forest without hesitation. Was that even possible?

"Wendy, can you sense my magic?"

"Yup. You're kind of shiny too. All mages are."

"I see."

"Oh! Can you do that thing where you make a monster appear, and it's all scary and looks like it's going to eat me, but then I touch it and it disappears, like, poof?"

"…Illusion magic? No, I can't do that."

She stuck out her bottom lip. "Jellal could do that."

"Well, I'm not him, okay?"

"Okay…" she said, despondently.

At last, a moment of quiet. Children were so annoying. If they somehow managed to get there without being discovered, he silently made a vow to ditch the girl as soon as she had taken him to Nirvana. As if on cue, the sound of a distant shout reached his ears, and he froze. That wasn't the sound of a beast – no, the only people stupid enough to shout commands like that in such a perilous environment were the Rune Knights. They were closer than he thought. Cursing inwardly, he strained all his senses, trying to find them before they found him. His ears picked up the sound of nearby footsteps; of an intruder trying to be silent when his standard-issue army boots didn't lend themselves to stealth.

Wondering why he had stopped, Wendy turned to look at him. "Sie-"

Immediately, he bounded forwards, seizing her arm and dragging her sideways into a bush. At the same time, his other hand clapped firmly over her mouth, cutting off her startled shout. He pressed her deeper into the undergrowth and crouched down beside her. He could feel her little body trembling in fear.

And then, amazingly, her shaking subsided; she pressed herself closer to him, seeking reassurance. She trusted him. He had to fight the sudden urge to laugh.

Instead, he just whispered, "Be quiet." He felt her nod, and removed his hand. To him, the sound of her gasping for breath seemed deafeningly loud in the silence, but it was a big improvement over the non-stop chatter of earlier. And it wasn't a moment too soon.

A trio of Rune Knights crossed over the path they had been on, coming within metres of their hiding place. They were moving slowly, carefully; he assessed their movements like a hunter would watch his prey. If Nirvana had been found, they would be rushing towards it, not searching the area like this, and that meant he still had a chance of getting there first. On the other hand, if all they were doing was searching, there was no need for them to try so hard to be stealthy. He could only hope that it was the denizens of the forest they were trying to conceal their presence from, and not him. If they really did know he was here…

The feeling of Wendy tugging on his sleeve dragged him back to the present. At least she had the tact to whisper when she asked, "Who're they?"

Only once they had moved out of sight did he reply. "Rune Knights. We can't let them catch us."

"Why not? The Rune Knights are the good guys, aren't they? Master Roubaul said they help the guilds."

"True. But, ah, if they see me, they'll mistake me for Jellal and try to arrest me. They won't know we're twins."

"Why would they want to arrest Jellal?"

"Because he's a bad person who's done a lot of evil things."

Wendy took offence on behalf of his fictitious brother. "Jellal's not evil! He's a good person. He's kind, just like you."

"Me, kind?" He had to fight not to laugh at that. Smiling to himself, he emerged from the bush and removed stray bits of thistle from his clothes. Wendy wriggled out beside him. She glared up at him, as if expecting an answer, so he sighed. "You're right. Jellal used to be a good person, once. Then he came to realize that the world is a cruel place, and that to survive in it, he must be even crueller. He'll seize the power to change the world, no matter what it costs him."

"Oh," she said, sadly. "I wonder if that's why he left me."

He shrugged, saying nothing. They set off again. Wendy led him through the forest with just as much certainty in her step as before. He left the navigating to her, focussing instead on trying to detect the patrols of Knights before they blundered into them. After the third time he dragged her into the shadows just in the nick of time, she gave voice to her frustration.

"I don't get it. They're the good guys, and we're the good guys. Wouldn't it be faster if we just worked together?"

"That would be a very bad idea."

"But they're trying to protect people from Nirvana too, right? Like we are?"

"I already told you. They think I'm the villain."

"But you're obviously not." She folded her arms in defiance. "If we just explained to them that you're not Jellal then I'm sure they'd understand."

"No. We're going to beat them there, seal the magic, and then leave again. No one needs to know we were there. As far as they're aware, Nirvana was properly sealed the entire time – understood? Wendy?"

He added her name to the instruction, a touch of frost lacing his voice. He thought that would be enough to make her comply; he wasn't expecting her to suddenly round on him, her eyes wide with understanding.

"Oh, _I_ see! We're superheroes!"

"Yeah, we're… what?"

"Superheroes! Like in all those stories Master Roubaul tells me. They save people, but they always wear costumes to hide who they really are. Is that what we're doing?"

"Sure, why not? But we don't have costumes, so we have to be sneaky."

"Wow!"

Just as he thought he had managed to placate her curiosity, she piped up again, as irrepressible as ever. "I never really understood those stories, though. I mean, if you were saved by a superhero, how would you know who to thank?"

"We don't require gratitude. Virtue is its own reward."

She missed the irony in his voice. "But that's not fair. You'll end up saving everyone, but you won't get any of the credit. I think you should tell the Rune Knights-"

He was no longer listening. At last, they were close enough to Nirvana for him to be able to detect it with his own senses. All mages perceived these things differently; the interplay between magic and their five ordinary senses was unique to each person. Wendy had compared it to the sun, but to him it was like a wave, and as they drew closer it crashed against him in a great roar of noise, sending shivers racing up and down his spine. He swayed on his feet, overwhelmed by its sudden intensity. When he opened his eyes, they gleamed with a new light.

"We're nearly there," Wendy informed him, unnecessarily.

"Yeah." He still wasn't really listening. "Wendy, I need you to wait here, okay?" She tilted her head to one side, gazing at him with curiosity, but without suspicion. She was so sweet. He was almost tempted to keep her. Almost. "I'm going on alone. Keep a lookout for me. If any Rune Knights come here, tell them that you're lost, and that you need them to take you home. Can you do that for me?"

"Yup!"

With that settled, he turned to leave, only to have her grab his sleeve once again. "What?"

"Don't die," she beseeched him.

He raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't planning on dying," he returned, affronted. Reassured, she beamed up at him once more. He took this an as invitation to shake himself free of her grip and set off down the trail.

At long last, things were back to how they were supposed to be. Victory was once more within his grasp. This path was one he was always meant to walk alone.

* * *

Wendy waved at him until he vanished from sight. Then she found a boulder to sit on and swung her feet back and forth, waiting for him to return. She had no doubt that he would come back for her. After all, she was no longer alone. She was happy. Siegrain had saved her life, and now they were travelling together, just like those few short months of bliss she had spent with Jellal.

She wanted to do something for him, though. Something to thank him for saving her, and for being her friend…

An idea came to her and she sat bolt upright, her eyes sparkling. She jumped to her feet and was immediately restrained by her conscience. "He did tell me to wait here…" she pondered aloud. "But I want to help, and I can't help if I'm here. It's not like I _promised_ to stay here…"

That settled it. She dashed back into the forest the way they had come. Siegrain was going to be _so_ proud of her.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** So, hello! CrimsonStarbird here. This my second story for Fairy Tail, and as you'll have guessed if you've made it this far, it is a prequel story focussing on Jellal and Wendy, about how the former is able to infiltrate the Magic Council and carry out his Tower of Heaven plan. It will span the four years up to and including canon's Tower of Heaven arc, and while it will be non-canon in as much as Wendy and Jellal are going to be spending a lot of time together, in other matters I will attempt to account for as much of canon as possible. Picking a place to start was tricky, but it will all settle down and make sense within a few chapters._

 _In terms of characters... everyone you'd expect to be in a story like this - Carla, Ultear, Lahar etc - will all turn out to be major players in this game, although it will be a while before any of them actually show up. Don't be surprised if they start off quite out of character - four years is a LONG time, especially when your characters are young to begin with, and odds are they will tend towards their canon selves towards the end. Conversely, basically none of the main Fairy Tail characters - Natsu, Lucy, Gray and so on - will be in this; even Erza will only show up in maybe one or two chapters. Also, there will be OCs. It's unavoidable in prequels. Most will be minor, but there will be one OC joining later on who is not only a main character, but will also be integral both to the plot and to Jellal's character development. Just pointing this out now in case there's anyone out there like me who is likely to get annoyed if important OCs are brought in without warning (or, in fact, are brought in at all). This is the advance notice!_

 _In terms of updating, I'll put up one chapter per week since that seems manageable for me, on Sunday evenings (my time zone). Some of the chapters at the start will be fairly short, so the story might move quite slowly early on, but I just don't have the time to do more than one a week._

 _Right, that's all the admin out of the way! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and thanks for reading! ~CS_


	2. In a Heartbeat, Only Silence

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-In a Heartbeat, Only Silence-**

At long last, he stood in front of his destiny. This was it. This was what he had been working towards for so long; the last piece of the puzzle. Once he had claimed this magic for himself, it was only a matter of waiting for construction to finish on the R-System, and then at last he would have the power he needed to change the world.

Trees so old they had turned to stone guarded this place. Fossilized branches formed a roof high above his head, scattering the sunlight. To his right and to his left, ancient stone monuments, whose purpose had long since been lost to history, formed high walls, giving the impression that he was walking into a narrow valley rather than a clearing at the centre of the forest.

He noticed none of this. He saw only the great pillar of light at the end of the path. Blue and grey, silver and black, it moved like no liquid he had ever seen, flowing endlessly upwards from the earth yet never growing taller than the trees which concealed it from above. Never before had he felt so much magic concentrated in one place – and it was _asleep_. If it awoke – if the seal binding it to its dormant state was completely removed – the consequences would be unthinkable. Even for him, the curiosity to see such magic in its true form was tempered by fear.

He had no intention of unsealing it completely. It was useless to him right now in its true form, after all. No, his purpose here was twofold – firstly, to remove the age-old seal that was degrading over time and allowing the magic to affect the environment; and secondly, to replace it with one that was similar to the existing one on the surface, but which would prevent it from leaking out and giving away its location, and more importantly, would open fully to him alone at his command. It was by no means a trivial task – rather, it was the culmination of years of research and preparation, all of which would go to waste if the Rune Knights found this place before he was done.

The hand he reached out towards that pillar of magic trembled. He took a deep breath.

"This is exactly how it's supposed to be," he said, perhaps to reassure himself, and he touched Nirvana.

Immediately, the seal binding the magic came to life, spreading its network of purple and red across the pillar of magic. Beneath it, Nirvana shifted in its sleep, but did not wake; he could not reach it any more than it could reach him. Good. That was what he wanted. Using both hands, he began to manipulate the expansive magical seal. He moved keys in patterns he had decoded from the records; he added magic circles of his own to close down specific components in exactly the right order; he sought out the weaknesses in that ancient lock and exploited them. Gently at first, and then with increasing confidence as everything began to fall into place, he rewrote the system in accordance with his will.

All of a sudden, the entire magical structure flashed red, and he recoiled with a sharp hiss. The seal returned to its original form. It might have been mocking him. He sighed. Fine. He hadn't been expecting to get it first time, anyway. If it was that simple, someone else would have done it years ago.

Closing his eyes, he reached up to touch the seal again. His own power naturally shied away from Nirvana; with a surge of anger, he forced it to obey his will, bringing it into contact with that fearsome magic for as long as he dared. He analysed it, broke it down, and tried to _understand_ it. There were aspects to its seal that – accidentally or otherwise – had been left out of the manuscripts. He would have to work out how to counter them as he went. He had been expecting that too, though. He wouldn't have come here if he hadn't judged himself capable of it. No one alive knew dark magic like he did.

Nirvana was dangerous. Even asleep, it was hungry. He drew his magic back from it before it could consume him, fully aware that he hadn't had the chance to examine as much of it as he needed, but not daring to keep his magic in such close proximity to it for any longer. Once again, he turned his attention to breaking the seal. This time, he got a little further before it threw him out.

Growling in annoyance, he repeated the process again and again, and though he got closer every time, the final steps continued to elude him. This was supposed to be the _easy_ bit. If he couldn't even unseal it, how could he even hope to rework the binding into the form that he wanted? He was running out of time, and worse, he was running out of power. If he had the first, he could easily rest until he had recovered enough of the second to carry on trying, but every moment he wasted here brought the Rune Knights closer to discovering him.

Besides, the moment he released the seal, every mage within a several mile radius would become able to sense Nirvana just as easily as Wendy could. He _had_ to re-seal it before they reached him, otherwise he would be captured and killed, and Nirvana would fall into the Council's hands. It was dangerous to stay. Maybe he should get out of here while he still could-

He almost laughed aloud at that thought. And give up? Like hell. Gathering his power, he activated the seal once more, breaking through the first layers with practised ease. He worked with magic in its purest form, weaving it into a pattern that would sever the lock that those ancient masters of magic had placed so many years ago. Though it had been crafted by men far older and more knowledgeable than him, he knew it wasn't perfect – the fact that it was weakening over time told him that – and it _would_ fall to him. And almost as soon as he thought that, his resolve returning with a vengeance, the final piece clicked into place and the seal opened for him.

This time, he really did laugh out loud. Power, such power! It raced through him like fire; excruciating pain and unimaginable ecstasy. There was nothing else in the world, only him and Nirvana, baptized in that glorious, terrible light. He let out a euphoric cry. He had actually done it!

"Stop that at once."

All that divine power, and it was under his control. His will kept it restrained even though its seal had been broken; he was the only reason why it hadn't exploded out of control, rampaging freely through the skies and bringing ruinous destruction upon the entire world. The thought of the damage he could do if he let it go made his heart lurch – but it wouldn't be enough. He had far greater plans for this world. Nirvana was merely a means to that end, and so he overcame its temptation with cold, calculating confidence. It raged against him in impotent fury, but still it was bound, and he would not let it go.

He called from his memory the invocation of the new seal he had created. He had practised it over and over again until it the casting of it was instinct; he had drawn and re-drawn it so many times to ensure it was perfect, triple-checking all his research until he was certain it would work. He could do this. There was no doubt about it.

"I said, stop it!"

All at once he became aware that there was not one world, but two – the one in which he and Nirvana grappled like gods in a halo of silver fire, and the one where he was simply a mortal man stood before a pillar of light in the heart of the forest. He had thought that voice a manifestation of Nirvana's anger in his head, but it had come from the second world after all: he was no longer alone.

He did not care for that world. He would have ignored it and immersed himself in the rapture of magic once again, except that the command had been accompanied by a flash of pain at his throat and the distant sensation of something – blood – trickling down his neck.

No! Not yet!

Fear shot through him. That terrible magic in his hands seized upon his moment of weakness, redoubling its efforts to escape. By some miracle it was still bound; its restraints hung by a thread. One tiny slip and neither he nor the person who had disturbed him would live for long enough to regret their mistake.

"Are you _insane?_ " he screamed, to the morons who inhabited the second world. "You want me to stop _now?_ "

"Seal it again. You have ten seconds before I run you through," replied the cold voice of utter idiocy. "Nine. Eight…"

He gave a scream of frustration. He couldn't think rationally through the blinding panic and the hostile magic shrieking in his head. At this rate, he would die long before he could complete his own seal. He had half a mind to let that awful magic run free and destroy all of them – but he didn't _want_ to die!

Desperation drove him to act. He turned his attention back to the scattered remnants of the seal and drew them towards him. He had broken the dam and let the water flood in, but its component pieces were still floating around; the desire to survive granted him the power to drag them towards him through the turbulence. He restored every aspect of the original seal from his memory, drawing upon everything he had learnt, forcing the magic back into its old form as best he could – and undoing everything he had just accomplished.

For a horrifying moment he didn't think it had worked, but then something clicked into place in his mind, and the restored seal took shape. Once again, that terrible magic was held at bay. The second world, the real world, materialized again around him as awareness of Nirvana slipped from his mind.

Shaking with the effort, he rested both hands against the inert pillar of light and drew in deep, shuddering breaths. His attempt at replicating the original binding had been clumsy and ignorant, but he had managed it. The magic pulsed erratically beneath the barrier. With any luck, it would hold for a day or two. He didn't want to think about how close he had come to death.

"See? I told you he'd seal it."

There was an unfamiliar smugness in that familiar voice. Wendy? What was going on here?

The pressure at his throat lifted as the blade was slowly withdrawn. There was a growing feeling of dread, which was only exacerbated as he slowly turned around to see the situation for the first time. At his back, a deadly magic lurked, barely contained within its improvised prison. At the other end of the trail, blocking the only way out from this dead end, waited what must have been an entire division of Rune Knights. In front of them, with a satisfied look on her face, stood Wendy. And next to the girl, his naked sword still in his hand, was a man that was all too familiar: Captain Bartley, of the 4st Custody Enforcement Unit of Rune Knights. He was a middle-aged man with a drooping moustache and small, sly eyes; they would have known each other by reputation even if they hadn't had one or two run-ins before. Their chosen careers inevitably brought them into conflict.

The Knight Captain gave a nasty smile. "Well, well, well. If it isn't our very own renegade dark mage, Jellal Fernandes. This _is_ my lucky day. I don't believe the Council specified that they wanted you bringing in alive."

Fight or flee? He didn't much fancy taking on an entire unit of Knights, but then again, still disoriented from his encounter with Nirvana, he wasn't sure how far he'd get if he tried to run either. It was a dead end, in more ways than one.

"No, I _told_ you," came Wendy's impatient voice. "He's not Jellal. He's his twin brother, Siegrain."

The Knight just laughed. "Yeah, right. 'My evil twin did it' – I haven't heard _that_ one before. Stupid brat." He raised his sword in both hands, preparing to strike. "I'll carry out your sentence here and now, Jellal."

But Wendy got there first. With the utter fearlessness of a child, she grabbed the Captain's arm and pulled it to the side before he could swing. "Hey! It's not fair! It's because of people like you that Siegrain is always on his own! He always has to help from the shadows because otherwise you'd judge him for the things that his brother has done, and _it's not fair!_ He's a good person, you'll see!"

So this was all part of Wendy's plan to get the Council to accept him? Bartley had been right. She _was_ a stupid brat. He should have disposed of her as soon as she'd shown him where Nirvana was. Now he was going to die because of her meddling.

Neither he nor the Knight Captain got the chance to reply out loud. Wendy saw it first. Her gaze shifted slightly, to a point above her new friend's shoulder. He saw the fear that entered her eyes; felt it resonate within himself. He recalled a certain monster of a bear that had elicited a similar expression from her earlier, and understood the danger with a preternatural instinct for survival.

One hand grabbed Wendy by the collar; his other knocked the Knight's sword aside and locked around his wrist. He jumped back, dragging the two of them with him – just as something enormous and spiked and deadly crashed into the ground where the three of them had been just a moment before. Gnashing jaws closed on empty air; bladelike claws whistled through space.

The monster he and Wendy had barely escaped from earlier now reared up to its full height, snarling its dominance towards the sky, as he scrambled back to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Rune Knights scatter as their attempt to fall into formation was sabotaged by fear of this giant abomination. Then he didn't notice anything else, because that hideous beast had its attention fixed on him – and it was coming for its prey.

Once again, though, the decision to act was taken out of his hands. It was Wendy's turn to seize the two of them and pull them with surprising strength back towards Nirvana. When they couldn't go any further, still she pushed them, until their backs were pressed up against the pillar of light and the rage of the barely-suppressed magic sent shudders running through them both.

"What are-?" he demanded, or tried to demand, because to his amazement the monster's next step was hesitant, and in the next instant it had turned away from the three of them to seek different prey. Belatedly he worked out what Wendy had known instinctively. Nirvana had nurtured that thing's growth; it protected that source of magic like it would its own family. The light of that magic was overwhelming, drowning out their magical presences with its own, confusing all the beast's senses. If it mistook them for Nirvana, it wouldn't strike. It would go for the obvious intruders instead.

Well. This was perfect.

Things were finally going his way. With that monster as a distraction, he'd easily be able to escape from the panicked Rune Knights. He couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. A savage grin crossed his face-

"Siegrain, please!"

Wendy was tugging once again at his sleeve. He glanced at her and his amusement became anger. He had saved her, and let her travel with him, and how had she repaid him? By bringing the Rune Knights to him and ruining the plan he had devoted months of his life to. For all that he cared, she could die here with the rest of the Knights.

She ignored the furious look on his face, beseeching him with wide, innocent eyes. "You have to help them!" And she pointed towards two young Knights, who had been separated from the main unit. They were backed into a crevice in the rock wall. The monster, sensing their terror, advanced mercilessly. Their fellow Knights flung bolts of energy at it from a safe distance, but their magic could no more pierce its hide than his had been able to.

"Now why would I do something like that?" he asked mildly.

She held her ground. "Because you're a good man! I know you are!"

"You think?" He let out a harsh laugh. "Well, I'm sure as hell not a suicidal man. If you want to help them, do it yourself."

"Fine!" And with that, she ran straight towards the monster.

* * *

Fine.

He wanted her dead anyway, didn't he?

Then again… it was sort of insulting, how easily she would throw away the life that he had worked so hard to protect.

Everyone had got the better of him today. First the girl had sabotaged his plans to claim Nirvana, and now he was going to be arrested by the Rune Knights. Was he going to admit defeat towards the monster too? Surely he was better than this mindless beast. Surely.

"Stupid girl."

There wasn't an ounce of fondness in his voice. It was pure anger; furious frustration - but he was already running. His internal source of magic had been severely depleted by his struggle with Nirvana, but he was by no means out yet. He drew it to him as he ran. Two steps brought him level with Wendy and then she was far behind him. Power surged through his body. He kicked off from the ground and sailed through the air; that single bound, intuitively aimed, brought him crashing down on top of the monster's head.

Startled, it tried to shake him off, but he was too quick for it. He placed his left hand over his right and re-directed the magic flowing through his veins out of his body. From his palm emerged a searing beam of light. He couldn't miss from that range. The light drove straight into its left eye.

Its shriek of distress was sweet to him. Now, that was more like it. He clung tightly to one of its spines with tenacity born of hatred, defying its best attempts to shake him off. The moment it paused, overcome by sheer agony, he damaged its other eye with another burst of light. It thrashed around in rage, claws tearing enormous chunks out of the rock.

Over the sound of its howls, he dimly heard Wendy calling to him. The two stranded Knights had used the distraction as a chance to regroup with the main force at the exit of the clearing. His job was done; when the beast bucked beneath him again, he let it fling him off into the air. He retained just enough magic in his body to land lightly from the fall beside the Knights, and then he let it go completely. He was breathing heavily. Wendy, who had made it to his side, glanced at him anxiously, which only made him angrier.

The Captain shouted across to his command of Knights. "What are you waiting for? Arrest him!"

Let them try. The first to touch him would be the first to die.

But, to his surprise, no one tried to grab him. The nearest two Knights, the ones he had saved, merely exchanged glances. "Are you serious?" demanded one of them, with a level of disrespect he had never imagined he would hear from a Rune Knight. Near-death experiences got to everyone, he supposed. Even more astonishing, however, was the explanation the Knight added: "He's the only chance we have of beating that thing!"

"You're surely not suggesting we get help from a wanted criminal?" Captain Bartley demanded, outraged.

The other Knight ignored him. "Will you help us… Siegrain?"

The question had no obvious answer. The thought of helping these servants of the Magic Council sickened him. He wanted nothing more than to flee to a safe distance and watch as they suffered and died horribly. Then again, hadn't that interaction just proven how useful it could be if he helped them out here, and turned a few of them to his side? Many of them were clearly new recruits – young, impressionable and idealistic – and they even seemed willing to accept the girl's crazy twins idea if it gave them hope that their gruesome fate could be avoided.

Of course, that logic didn't make fighting that monster any more of an attractive idea. If he was capable of killing it, he'd have done that the first time round, rather than considering himself lucky to have escaped with only a shallow wound. He knew his magic wasn't powerful enough to penetrate its hide.

Equally, there was an entire division of Rune Knights at his back. He had battled enough of them over the past few years to know how they fought. Though they were all mages in their own right, wielding a wide range of secondary magic, their greatest strength lay in the way they were trained to combine their rune magic to produce effects that not even a great Wizard Saint could achieve alone. While he resented the idea of depending on the Knights almost as much as he did the thought of helping them, it did provide him with an opening. And even stronger than his dislike of the Knights was the sheer hatred he held for that monster. He wanted nothing more than to see it dead.

He clenched his fist. "I'll hold it off. Back me up."

They nodded in unison. "Captain! Your orders?" one of them called.

Bartley gritted his teeth. It was obvious that the only thing he wanted more than capturing his prisoner or abandoning him to his fate was pretending to support him, and then stabbing him from behind. But his Knights would never allow it. With barely disguised fury, he growled, "We'll support him. Get into formation! We're going to trap and kill that creature!"

The moment the Knights began to move, he shut them completely out of his mind. He took one deep breath, and then another, trying to calm his racing heart. An alien prickling sensation flitted across his skin. For all the hurt and humiliation he had suffered today, it was payback time.

On the third breath, he reached for his magic and sent it flowing into his limbs. His body uncoiled like a spring as he bounded towards the mutated creature. He was too fast to see – a streak of gold against the Knights' vision. With that momentum and that magic and all that anger focussed into his fist, he struck the beast without fear. It was four times as tall as him, and yet it was the one thrown back by the impact, away from the Knights.

Adrenaline, thrill, savage ecstasy.

More.

Those claws slashed ferociously towards him. The fact that he had temporarily blinded it hardly mattered: all it needed was his rough location, since its blades were as long as he was, and a single solid hit would take him out of the fight for good. Still, even knowing that, it didn't even occur to him to be afraid.

When he opened his eyes again the golden haze had returned to his vision. Everything was so _slow_ compared to him. He wanted to laugh. He jumped, landing on the arm it was trying to strike him with, and pushed off again before it had moved an inch. His outstretched hands found purchase on one of its long spines and he swung on it like a gymnast, propelling himself up towards its head.

It lunged for him; its jaws snapped shut just inches away from his head. Droplets of green venom stung his cheek, but he was already clear of danger. With inhuman strength, he span in the air and brought his heel crashing down upon the monster's neck. It howled; stumbled; almost fell.

More.

Make that great beast suffer for all the indignity he had gone through today. For all the time wasted. For all the plans ruined. For all his anger towards the girl, towards the Knights, towards the world itself – make it suffer _more_.

He landed on the ground between it and the Knights, slowly standing up. If he had looked over his shoulder, he might have seen that half the soldiers weren't preparing their magic at all, but were staring at him in undisguised awe. He didn't look. He didn't care about anything but his enemy.

It charged at him. The thought of dodging and letting it tear into the Knights behind him didn't even cross his mind. He ran to meet it, channelling all the magic in his body into his right fist. It swept one great claw down towards him and he met it with a blow of his own. Reinforced by magic, his small fist stopped the steel-like bone in its tracks. Blood dripped down his fingers – but his power held firm, and cracks ran along the claw before it shattered altogether.

There. The weapon that had wounded him, in pieces on the floor.

Still it wasn't enough. Still something screamed within him.

 _More._

Light burst out from his body. His skin was no longer sufficient to contain it. Pain raced through his right hand, so he pushed the power into his left one instead. Like a bolt of lightning he pounced towards his opponent and delivered another solid strike. Once again, the beast was pushed back.

But that was all he was doing. The blows he was landing were all superficial. Even giving it everything he had, he still couldn't break through its hide. He couldn't kill it like this. He needed more power.

Ignoring the searing pain it brought him, he forced more and more of his magic through his body, and struck the beast again. In his haste, however, he had forgotten to change positions, and its claws flashed out and raked along his back. Blood shone black in Nirvana's light. He screamed; a second slash sent him spinning through the air.

Somehow, he managed to land on his feet.

More.

He wasn't done yet.

 _More._

Drown this pain in the suffering of others.

 _More!_

All of a sudden a pair of small arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back; cold against the feverish heat of his body. "It's okay," Wendy murmured. "You can stop now."

And he did. The last of his magic left him, leaving him weak; barely clinging to consciousness. Were it not for the little girl who refused to let him go, he wouldn't have been able to stand. He gulped down deep breaths of air and shuddered from the effort of it.

Not everything stopped when he did. Suddenly free of its greatest threat, the monster advanced again towards the Knights. They hadn't been idle while he was fighting alone, though. It had barely taken more than a step when barriers of red-violet runes flashed up around it, imprisoning it within a tight square. Though those walls were insubstantial – nothing more than floating letters of magic – they might as well have been reinforced concrete for all the damage the monster could do to them.

A moment later, a spike of crimson light burst from the wall of its prison. The combined magic of the Rune Knights could do what he alone had been unable to accomplish – the light pierced straight through the beast's matted hide and out the other side. A dozen more spikes burst from the prison, spearing its body from all directions. Its shriek became a gurgle, which died away to nothing. When the runes entrapping it faded, it collapsed to the ground and never moved again.

He hardly noticed any of this, however. Only when Wendy let go of him and he was forced to try and stand on his own did he become aware that time was still moving in the real world. Once again, a blade appeared at his throat. He was too exhausted to care.

The disgruntled voice of Knight Captain Bartley drifted down to him as if from a great height. "It seems I owe you my life, _Siegrain_ ," he grunted, drawing out that one word with immense distaste. "In return, I suppose I shouldn't kill you where you stand."

The blade was withdrawn. Someone grabbed him roughly; he heard a click as a set of magic-suppressing handcuffs snapped into place around his wrists.

"We'll be taking custody of Nirvana. In the meantime, you're coming back to Era with us. The Magic Council can decide what to do with you."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Poor Jellal. He's still got a long way to go when it comes to magic. I really enjoyed writing that little fight, so I hope you liked it. Next chapter, the battle moves to a somewhat different arena - one where words and not magic will determine the victor... ~CS_


	3. Serendipity

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Serendipity-**

He sat in the antechamber, waiting to be called in to face the Council. This was the heart of the Council Headquarters, the grandest building in Era, the home of the Magic Council and the base of operations for the Rune Knights - in other words, the centre of the enemy stronghold. It was the most heavily guarded place in the entire kingdom. There were Knights _everywhere_. Escape was impossible. One wrong move here and he was done for.

How had this happened? How had _he_ , after all his planning and preparation, ended up here?

A single glance to the side revealed the reason. Wendy was sat next to him – or she had been, back when they had first been ordered to wait here, but that must have been at least two hours ago now. Bored by his refusal to answer any of her questions or even to acknowledge her at all, she had decided to take a nap, and was now contentedly asleep with her head resting up against his side. She was still completely at ease around him, totally oblivious to the fact that she had ruined his life and led him to the chopping block. It hadn't even crossed her mind that the only reason why he hadn't throttled her in her sleep was that his hands were still cuffed together in his lap.

Well, that and the five Knights who were in the room with him. Under their mistrustful gazes, he had been forced to keep his anger under control. Fortunately, the long wait here in the oppressive silence had given him a chance to gather his thoughts and calm himself down before confronting the Council. His back didn't hurt at all – even the wound in his arm seemed to have somehow closed – which helped; perhaps the stress of battle had made those injuries seem worse than they actually were, since the Council certainly hadn't provided him with any medical assistance. Apart from the familiar exhaustion that came from pushing his magic too far, the only ache he felt came from sitting still for two hours on this bench that had probably been designed to be uncomfortable. But if he shifted position, Wendy would wake up, and then he'd have to deal with her unending chatter once more, so he endured it.

All he could do was sit and wait while the Council decided how they were going to execute him. If there was one small consolation, it was that both the Knights he had saved had been called in ahead of him to give testimony, as well as Captain Bartley. He wondered if that counted for anything. At the very least, it might be amusing to see this farce through to the end. Even though he knew he wasn't going to be leaving this building alive, he might as well mess with his enemies for as long as he could.

Eventually, they came for him. Shaking Wendy awake, he stood up and stretched, easing his cramped muscles and trying to appear relaxed. She blinked up at him blearily – then, as soon as she realized he was leaving, she jumped to her feet and tried to follow him.

He pushed her back down onto the seat. "Stay here."

She gave an unhappy nod, but obeyed, and he followed the Knights into the chamber of judgement alone.

* * *

And alone was how he stood in the dock. Ten unfriendly faces were ranged against him. Most of them he knew by reputation: a man with a long greying beard and an eyepatch, Org; a short, wizened old man with strangely cat-like features, Michello; another tiny man who studied him intently as he entered, Yajima; a stern-faced woman with eyes of iron, Belno; a young man dressed in a sharp suit, who would have looked far more at home in a firm of tax accountants, Melchior.

One of them he knew from personal experience: Byron, a bald, elderly man, whose responsibilities included the confiscation, sealing, and archiving of the artefacts of dark magic which cropped up from time to time on the continent, along with the subjugation of dark guilds. It was unsurprising that their paths had crossed once or twice before, given his own less than healthy – and certainly less than legal – interest in forbidden magic. Indeed, Byron was glaring at him with undisguised hatred.

The other members of the Council he did not know, nor did he much care for them. The one exception was the Chairman, who sat above the other nine, with his face concealed by the shadow from his oversized hat. It was this man who addressed him first. "So, you are the man claiming to be Siegrain, the twin brother of Jellal Fernandes. Is that correct?"

"That's right." Well, he was certainly _claiming_ that. No lie there.

"Are you aware that Jellal is a wanted criminal?" A pointless question, posed only to see how he would respond.

Right then. How should he play this? Meek and mild-mannered was always an option, of course, and pretending to cooperate fully might be the most effective move against this group of self-important politicians. However, he hadn't been pretending around the Rune Knights earlier; if their report to the Council had been faithful to the events of their encounter, the Council might suspect a deception if he came across as suddenly obedient now. He could possibly pass it off as being awed or intimidated, but where would be the fun in acting like that?

He closed his eyes with a sigh, as if the very question was insulting to him. "For the past four years I have been running from the authorities for crimes I didn't commit. Everywhere I go, I am hunted, just because I was born with this face. You don't need to tell _me_ my twin is a wanted man."

Several members of the Council began muttering amongst themselves; less subtle, Byron gave an outright laugh. "This is beyond ridiculous," he mocked. "Please don't tell me you're actually buying this."

"Silence," ordered the Chairman. Then, to the defendant: "Tell us what happened today."

Improvisation came easily to him. He reflected that he had been given a lot of practice already that day, thanks to Wendy. He told them briefly how he had been in the forest, and how he had saved Wendy – on the off-chance that they cross-referenced his story with hers. They had found Nirvana together. He didn't tell them about Wendy's extraordinary talent for sensing magic, but left the story open enough such that if she told them herself, it wouldn't contradict anything he had said. Sensing the danger, he had left her behind and gone on alone.

The centuries-old seal binding Nirvana was weakening with time. His plan had been to remove it and replace it with a new one, only he had been interrupted by the Knight Captain, whose untimely attempt to murder him had almost caused Nirvana to break free. Fortunately, he had managed to keep control and re-create the original seal before the magic could be unleashed. The Captain had tried to kill him again, only to be interrupted by a monster which guarded the hidden magic. He had bought time for the Knights to set up their magic, and they had killed it. There was no need for him to milk the fact that he had single-handedly saved the Captain and at least two others – they would already know the story from the Knights themselves, and this was one case where modesty would certainly work in his favour.

The Chairman nodded at his story, acknowledging that his account matched what the Knights had already told them. Now for the cross-examination to begin.

"Why were you in the Worth Woodsea?"

"As I said, I was looking for Nirvana." They wanted him to elaborate. Fine. He gave a shrug. "I learnt of its existence some time ago, and quickly linked the degradation of its ancient seal to the state of the wildlife in the forest; I'm sure you're aware that two villages near to the forest have recently been abandoned because of the dangers of living in proximity to it. If that's what it can do when sealed… well, such a dangerous magic must never be allowed out into the world. I took it upon myself to prevent such an occurrence."

"Nirvana's existence is a secret known only to the Council," rumbled Org. "How did someone like you find out about it?"

"It was mentioned in several ancient texts; from there it was simply a matter of following the trail through the literature." He spoke carelessly, as if it had been a trivial matter to discover the location and nature of that magic. Most of them would have no idea how difficult a task that was, but for the few who actively participated in that sort of research – Byron, for one – his casual attitude would really hit home.

Indeed, he noticed the bald councillor glaring at him with newfound hatred. "Something of a scholar, are we?" he inquired, without a trace of warmth in his voice.

"I have an interest in ancient magic," he shrugged.

"Forbidden magic, you mean. Nirvana is dark magic; that is why all records of it were erased by the Council long ago. That dangerous interest is exactly what we would expect to see from a dark mage like Jellal."

"Naturally," came his cool response. "How am I supposed to stop my brother if I cannot understand what is driving him? How am I to defeat him if I do not know what his goals are or what magic he will use to attain them?"

With slight curiosity, Melchior asked, "You seek to stop your brother?"

"Of course. Not until he is safely behind bars can I walk freely, after all. It is to that end that I have devoted my life to understanding all magic, both that which the powers that be label as acceptable and that which they do not. If my brother does not play by the rules, neither can I."

Org jumped on his words. "Then, you freely admit to learning about forbidden magic?"

"Forbidden or otherwise, it made little difference to me before today. I am already treated as a criminal, after all. Such knowledge comes in handy when dealing with dark guilds – and, of course, at times like today. Imagine what might have happened had I not known how to re-seal Nirvana."

Another murmur ran around the chamber. The ten councillors didn't appear at all united against him. He struggled to suppress a grin. This was better entertainment than he had hoped for. He figured he could string this out for a little while yet, before they decided to throw him in prison.

"Regardless of how you came by that knowledge, it goes without saying that you should not have taken matters into your own hands. If you believed Nirvana posed a danger to our society, you have no excuse for not bringing the matter to the Council immediately," the Chairman reprimanded. "Why did you not report this?"

He gave a bark of cynical laughter. "I'd have thought that was obvious. Today I prevented Nirvana from breaking free and saved an entire division of Rune Knights, and in return, I was dragged to Era in chains. If I had simply turned up on your doorstep to report out of control dark magic… well, you figure things out for yourself."

Byron's glare intensified. "More likely, you were well aware that simply _knowing_ about such things is grounds for criminal conviction. You had no intention of admitting such knowledge to the proper authorities even if lives could have been saved in the process."

"Perhaps it was foolish of me to act alone. Perhaps I should have left it to the Council to deal with," he conceded. As his opponent seemed to visibly relax, his eyes glittered. Feint, then strike back. "Then again, I, a lone man on the run from authority, not only discovered the location of Nirvana, which was supposed to have been erased from history, but also had opened and almost re-forged its seal long before the small army of Knights that you sent out to secure it even got there. Even putting aside the fact that an entire unit of Knights would have died at the hands of its guardian had I not been there, I think you'll have to forgive me for not entrusting this matter to the Council's men."

Stunned silence followed his pronouncement. Then, to his amazement, someone gave a genuine laugh. "I like him," grinned Melchior.

He blinked in surprise. He hadn't exactly been expecting defiance to win him a supporter; he had simply intended to stir things up a bit. Still, from the looks the other councillors were throwing their outspoken companion, it seemed that he wasn't exactly the most popular member of the group either.

Byron was quick to retaliate. "Such disrespect cannot be tolerated!"

"You can't fault a man for being honest, Byron," retorted Melchior coolly. "Or are you perhaps jealous that this one rogue mage pulled off a feat that your entire department and a whole year's worth of funding couldn't achieve?" Without waiting for an answer from his spluttering fellow councillor, he continued, "Something is certainly wrong when the Council is being shown up by independent mages. I can't help but feel that we ought to be grateful to Siegrain for pointing out the failings in our own operation."

Michello's grating, high-pitched voice entered the debate for the first time. "You speak as if this man isn't a wanted criminal, Melchior," he warned.

"Let's not be too hasty to judge," came the easy reply. "He risked his own life to save several of our men. We have no shortage of witnesses testifying to his bravery, and his power."

It was clear what the councillor was getting at. If there was any doubt at all about his identity, they couldn't execute him – not without arousing the anger of the Knights who, for whatever reason, saw him as a hero. If those men got the press involved, or even got in contact with the guilds, all sorts of questions about the Council's conduct would come to light. That would undoubtedly cause problems to the men and women sat in front of him. The Council wasn't a totalitarian governing body, after all – it was accountable to the King, but more importantly to society, and to all the mages it was designed to regulate. Wendy's little misunderstanding, combined with his spontaneous actions towards the Knights, had certainly landed him in an interesting position.

Not that that meant he was in the clear. They could always quietly execute him and claim that they had let him go, or fabricate some evidence that proved Jellal didn't have a twin brother – no one would look too hard at documents convicting such an infamous criminal – and then kill him, or even just throw him into prison for the rest of his life.

There was silence once again in the chamber as the politicians also considered the repercussions of that statement. "We cannot afford to let this man walk free," Org reiterated.

Belno added, "It would be the greatest mistake this Council has ever made."

Two or three of the others also voiced their agreement. There was something akin to glee on Byron's face. "Of course. He has already confessed to learning about forbidden magic. For a mage acting outside the Council's direct command, that alone is grounds for criminal conviction, is it not?"

Ah. He hadn't thought of that. They didn't _need_ proof that he really was Jellal if they could convict him of a crime he certainly had committed, and once they had him in custody, it would be all too easy for them to discover Jellal's brother didn't exist. There was no way he could get out of this. The councillors knew it too; not one of them was about to deny that he was trouble.

Right. He had had his fun, and it hadn't worked out. He was going to die. All he had to do now was take as many of them with him as possible. He was unarmed, and the handcuffs were suppressing his ability to use magic, but he was nothing if not resourceful. He was certain he could clear the dock in a single bound. Two of the Council's weird frogmen were stood just behind him; with surprise on his side, he'd be able to snatch the spear that one of them held and use it to dispatch the other.

The councillors themselves weren't a threat; though they had all been mages once, it was a long time since any of them had seen any active combat. More problematic would be the four Rune Knights guarding the exits. Without his power on his side, only one of them needed to hit him with magic to win. He'd have to target the closest two first and rely on panic to distract the other two and provide cover while he turned on the councillors themselves.

"I have made my decision," announced the Chairman, and the room fell silent immediately.

He tensed, ready to spring into action.

"Siegrain. How would you like to come and work for the Magic Council?"

* * *

The moment he left the room, chaos ensued. Every single one of the councillors converged furiously upon the Chairman.

"What is this madness, Chairman? You can't honestly be telling me you believed him! He and that thorn in our side Jellal are one and the same!"

"In all likelihood, yes, they are. After his actions today, however, I might be inclined to believe otherwise for the time being. That girl does not believe he is Jellal."

"You're going to let our enemy walk free on the testimony of an eight-year-old girl?"

"She isn't lying. He is a difficult man to read, but she knows nothing but honesty."

"So what? He probably lied to her, like he lies to everyone! She has been deceived! She might even be working for him!"

"Of course, I am well aware of those possibilities. The reasoning behind my decision is simple. Although we know that Jellal leads a dark cult dealing in forbidden magic, we do not know where they are based, let alone the exact nature of their research. If Siegrain is guilty and he does run, he'll lead us straight to the cult. We can take out him and his followers in one go."

"An admirable intention, Chairman, but how are you intending to carry it out? I'll say this about that Jellal: he's not a fool. He isn't going to make this easy for us."

"I know. I will put him under surveillance at once."

"But who- oh, Matthias is back, is he?"

"Indeed. He returned this morning."

"He won't be happy with a job like this. It could be months before Jellal makes a move."

"He will have to deal with it. This is an invaluable chance to finally get a lead on Jellal's cult, and I will not have us pass it up just because it involves some measure of risk."

This seemed sufficient to placate the angry group, but the Chairman continued anyway. "In the meantime, it seems clear to me that we stand to gain far more by having Siegrain work for us than by simply imprisoning him. We cannot deny that he's a charismatic individual with powerful magic, and it's possible that his knowledge in certain areas even exceeds our own. We would be foolish not to use him for as long as he intends to play along. And besides... on the off-chance that the girl is right and Siegrain is innocent, we're definitely going to want him on our side. Let's not be too quick to antagonize him until we know for sure what his game is."

He clapped his hands together authoritatively, signalling the end of the discussion. "One wrong move and we'll take him, but for the time being, Byron, I shall assign him to your department - though he'll report directly to the Council, of course. After the shambles of today's mission, I think you need all the help you can get."

* * *

Outwardly, he was completely calm. On the inside, he was seething with rage.

He knew he should have been elated. He had fully expected this to be his last day alive, and yet they were actually letting him go. He could walk straight out of the Council Headquarters and not a single person would stop him. All he had to do was play along for a few days, wait for them to let down their guard, and then disappear. In a week, he could be safely back at the Tower, far beyond the reach of the Council and pushing ahead with his plan to bring this world to its knees.

Of course, the events of that day had set his plan back significantly. The Council had claimed Nirvana. By now, they would have a team of operatives at the site, dismantling his clumsy seal and firmly securing the ancient magic with one of their own. Disabling a four-hundred-year-old seal which had already been severely weakened by time, and whose nature had been well-documented in the ancient literature, was one thing – breaking a secure lock established by a group of world-leading experts in that field was another entirely. No, Nirvana belonged to the Council now, and only a member of the Council would ever be able to learn the details of its binding and unleash it upon the world. It had moved forever beyond his reach.

It wasn't Nirvana in particular that he had needed, of course. He wasn't entirely sure what that magic was even supposed to _do_. The important thing about it was that it was an incredible amount of energy focussed into one place, orders of magnitude more than any single mage could produce. He needed that power for his plan. Any other effect it may have produced was irrelevant; the structure of his system would strip its original purpose from it and bind that energy to a new form. But where else was he going to find a source of such incredible, concentrated power? Nothing else he had found in the records of ancient magic he possessed came even close to Nirvana's might. His entire plan had been ruined.

Still, wasn't that a small price to pay for his freedom? For his _life?_ He still lived and the Tower remained undiscovered. As long as he had those two things, there was always a chance that he would be able to find another way of carrying out his plan. He had come so close to death, walked in and out of the great maw of his enemies, and yet he had survived. He should have been relieved; grateful; elated.

He was not. He was _furious_.

He had to work for the Council. The _Council_. They were his sworn enemies, and now he was expected to be at their beck and call. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had been forced to help them out already that day, he would have to play along and serve that bunch of buffoons for as long as it took for him to escape their surveillance and return to plotting the destruction of everything they held dear. It was _humiliating_. He could not imagine a worse punishment.

He had accepted only because his desire to stay alive had forced him to, but now that he had left that room of judgement behind, it was becoming more and more difficult to convince himself that it was worth it. Now that they had released his restraints, he could use magic again; he had half a mind to dash back into that room and tell them what he _really_ thought about them and their offer in one last defiant blaze of glory before he was killed as an enemy of the state.

He couldn't die yet, though. There was still one thing he had to do.

He had to find that accursed little girl and make her pay for putting him into such a humiliating situation.

Actually, that was a point. Where was she? He had returned to the antechamber, only to find it empty – no Wendy, and also no Rune Knights. Perhaps they had taken her to be questioned elsewhere.

Then he heard the distinct clattering of a Knight running at full-pelt across a polished stone floor, and revised his earlier guess: by the sounds of things, she had run off, and they were chasing her. Frowning, he set off towards the source of the commotion at a brisk walk, ignoring the Knights who shouted after him.

This was a part of the building he was pretty sure prisoners weren't supposed to be in, if the concentration of guards was any indication. To his right was a set of enormous double doors, plated in shiny metal and carved with elegant, intricate designs. They were at least three times as tall as he was, clearly indicating that what lay beyond was of immense importance. Leave it to the Council to make it so obvious.

The doors were wide open. Beyond them lay a vast room filled with bright lights and the sense of bound magic. As he began to think that maybe he should head back before the Knights decided he was a criminal after all, Wendy popped her head out of the entrance and called to him. "Siegrain! Siegrain, look at this!"

He was not remotely interested in anything the girl had to say – but something in her expression gave him pause. Her eyes were shining, open wide with wonder; there again was that look of pure innocent joy that only children were capable of. "Look!" she repeated earnestly, and disappeared back inside the room.

He couldn't remember the last time he had ever seen anyone look so happy. Curious despite himself, he followed her. Just inside the room stood a young man, likely only a year or two older than him, wearing the formal uniform of a trainee Knight. He had his hand on the girl's shoulder, preventing her from going any further, but she had no intention of approaching; she was happy just to look from afar with an expression of complete awe. As he moved to stand at Wendy's side, the trainee Knight gave him a cursory glance from behind his glasses, but didn't try to stop him.

Wendy grinned at him. "Isn't it beautiful?" she marvelled. "It's so… _bright_."

She was right. Even to him, the amount of magic contained in that room was overwhelming – he couldn't begin to imagine how it must have appeared to someone with Wendy's sensitivity. Most of the light seemed to be coming from a flawless crystal, suspended high above the ground in a complex network of glowing circular seals, chains and magic-suppressing restraints. There were other things in that room too – guards standing to attention, technicians running everywhere, stunning statues and decorations that wouldn't have looked out of place in a palace – but compared to that incredible lacrima, all those things were mundane and drab, not worthy of his attention.

"What… is it?" he murmured.

He wasn't expecting a response – he had forgotten in that moment of reverence that anything other than himself and that lacrima existed – and so he jumped when a voice answered his own. "You don't know? Where've you been living for the past four years, under a rock?" asked the trainee Knight, with more than a hint of disbelief.

"Something like that." He was far too preoccupied with the sight before him to take offence.

"This is Etherion, the Council's greatest achievement. And it's almost complete."

"What does it do?" he breathed. Scanning the room once again, examining the sight before him with an analytical eye, rather than an admiring one, he answered his own question. "No… it's a weapon, isn't it? All that energy, raining down from the sky at once… they could destroy _anything_ on the continent without warning!"

"It's a deterrent," the Knight corrected him, with a small smile. "Towards dark guilds and hostile nations alike. It is hardly a weapon to be used on a whim – it is a tool for negotiation, and a warning to those who think of breaking the law."

That was for sure. Whether or not the Council actually intended to use the weapon, the fact of its existence was terrifying enough. Once it was complete, all they would need was the location of a dark guild's hideout and they could theoretically wipe it off the map in an instant. He could not deny the power contained within that room: just observing that magic in its dormant form at a distance set his pulse racing. It reminded him of something that he couldn't quite put his finger on-

Oh, yes. It was just like standing before Nirvana.

"Come on," the trainee was saying to Wendy, as he steered her back out into the corridor. "Where do you live? I'll take you home."

He lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, staring at Etherion, unable to believe his eyes. Since when did the Council have this much power at their fingertips? He had been convinced that the only place he would find the magic he needed was in the past: relics from the time of Zeref; that golden age when magic could freely be practised in all its forms, and creations on the level of Nirvana were praised and revered, not sealed away. To find the very power he sought here, in the heart of the Council itself…

He had to hand it to Wendy. Perhaps she was an angel of good fortune, after all. Her meddling had cost him almost everything he had, and in return, she had shown him _this:_ the perfect tool for his revenge. He could use this in place of Nirvana, and nothing would be sweeter than destroying the Council with its own weapon. He could tear this stupid organization apart from within. He would obey them; serve them to the best of his ability; earn their trust – and then, when the time was right, he would use their own weapon of mass destruction to activate the Tower and fuel the birth of a new world; _his_ new world. Now _that_ was a goal worth serving the Magic Council for. He could put up with any level of humiliation in return for the perfect revenge.

For every door that had closed for him that day, another had opened. If anything could prove he was on the right path, surely it was this.

"You know what?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "I think I'm going to enjoy working for the Council after all."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** And there we have it. The end of the introduction. Now that everything is in place for Jellal's plan, the story can properly begin next chapter... ~CS_


	4. The First Job

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-The First Job-**

 **October, X780**

This was a test.

That much was obvious. Unfortunately, knowing that this was a test didn't make it any easier for Siegrain to work out exactly what it was the Council were testing him _on_.

Most likely, it was a test of loyalty – some sort of task to see whether or not he would run off as soon as he was given the opportunity. It was, after all, the first time they had let him out unsupervised since he had started working for them. For the past three weeks he had been stuck in Era: sightseeing, learning how the Council operated, resisting the urge to dash back to the safety of the Tower at every free moment – and for the rest of the time, being bored out of his mind.

At the Council's instruction, he had rented a small apartment within walking distance of their Headquarters, which had been an interesting experience, to say the least. Living alone – cooking and cleaning for himself, not to mention having to deal with real ordinary people on a daily basis – was completely new to him. Back at the Tower, he had cultists and servants to do everything for him, and he certainly didn't have to make polite small talk to strangers stupid enough to approach him.

Then there was the issue of money. It wasn't that he was poor as such, only that most of his money was currently inaccessible, being locked away in the Tower and thus beyond his reach for the time being. If the Council didn't start paying him soon, he was going to starve to death long before he had earned their trust. It wasn't as if he had thought infiltrating the Council was going to be an easy task, but it was certainly throwing a whole load of unanticipated problems his way.

He had spent much of his free time learning how to cast a Thought Projection. It was an odd kind of magic that defied classification – a combination of illusion and communication magic, used to remotely create an image of oneself through which one could perceive a distant location and speak to others there. Unlike ordinary illusion magic, it was useless in battle as acting through a projection required full concentration; retaining the use of one's physical body while maintaining a projection was impossible. Neither did it have much use in the realms of stealth or spying, because a projection was always immediately identifiable as such, not to mention that it could only be generated in locations the caster was very familiar with, and could be blocked by the simplest of defensive wards.

Ultimately, it was not a kind of magic he had ever had any use for in the past, and he wasn't particularly good at it, but the Council required basic competency in the skill so that their agents could report in remotely. Besides, he had immediately come up with another use for it. While he couldn't physically leave Era if he was trying to gain the Council's trust, he could throw a Thought Projection out to the Tower to check that things were still running smoothly there. In addition, since anyone the Council may have sent to observe him knew that he was trying to learn the skill, he could do it without arousing suspicion. At least this way he could still give orders to his subordinates in the Tower – even if he couldn't be absolutely certain that those orders were being obeyed.

But that aside, the past three weeks had been incredibly dull. He had been out on missions twice in the company of a division of Rune Knights and a couple of the Council's mages, who kept a close eye on him at all times. The first time he hadn't been required to do anything at all; the second, he had pursued and caught a criminal who had escaped from the Knights' encirclement. All in all, it hadn't been a great deal more exciting than learning how to cook.

This was his first solo mission, which lent weight to the theory that they were testing to see whether he would continue to be trustworthy even when he wasn't under close supervision. He had his doubts, though. It was a very unusual setup. He had left Era in the company of a small group of Rune Knights, led by a sullen Captain Bartley, whose hand never left the hilt of his sword and whose intense glare was constantly trained on the man in his charge. They had travelled to the edge of the Worth Woodsea, whereupon the Captain had suddenly announced that the Knights were under orders to go no further, and he was to complete the mission alone.

For the past half hour he had been trekking through the forest on his own – and that was what made no sense. He knew he wasn't being followed. Every time he had journeyed to the mainland over the past four years he had been on the run; he had only survived this long by rapidly developing a talent for detecting pursuers - and yet he had neither seen, heard, nor sensed the magical presence of another human being since he had left the Rune Knights behind. He was utterly unsupervised in the wilderness. There was absolutely nothing stopping him from running straight back to the Tower. In fact, the only reason why he hadn't already done so was because of his determination to break the Council from the inside. If they were testing his loyalty, they couldn't have picked a riskier way of doing it.

So if they trusted him already, what were they testing him on? Skill? Quite possibly. The mission briefing was so unhelpful that it could only have been deliberate. He had been told that a trio of dark mages had got their hands on a dangerous ancient artefact and were rumoured to be hiding out in a tomb somewhere in the forest. That was it. No further information on either the mages or the device they allegedly had, and no indication of where in this massive forest this tomb was, let alone something as concrete as a map reference.

In fact, if he hadn't been certain that not a single member of the Council had anything resembling a sense of humour, he might have considered the possibility that this whole mission was their idea of a prank.

That wasn't their style, though. Most likely, they were actually expecting him to succeed at this madness.

If there was one thing in his favour, it was that the wildlife seemed to have calmed down now that Nirvana had been properly sealed by the Council's mages. Monsters still roamed these parts, but they were a lot less aggressive than before, and he could avoid them quite comfortably.

On the other hand, half an hour of searching had convinced him that he was never going to stumble upon this tomb by accident. The Worth Woodsea was just too insanely big for something like that. Fortunately, he vaguely recalled passing a mage guild on the outskirts of the forest during his first visit. Hoping that they would know the area well enough to be of some use, he headed in that direction until he came across a collection of tents.

It was an unusual tribal settlement, consisting of brightly coloured tepees interspersed with small, earthy huts, implying a wholly sustainable lifestyle; living as one with nature. He supposed they probably didn't have much of a choice. There were no large cities anywhere nearby; even the closest train station was an hour's walk. At first glance it appeared to be more of a village than a mage guild, but the banners flying outside the front of the encampment – one bearing the symbol of the Magic Council, and another proudly declaring the place as belonging to the mage guild Cait Shelter – confirmed that it was indeed a licensed guild. Perhaps it appealed to the kind of city-born mage who dreamed of going 'back to their natural roots', as chatty old Mrs Mollins who lived in the flat below him liked to say. He was hardly in a place to judge anyone else's lifestyle choices.

Then again, if moving to the wilderness was as popular as she was implying, where the hell _was_ everyone?

The guild was deserted. The only sounds came from his own footsteps, and the whistling of the wind amongst the tents. It was more than a little eerie. Sure, it was only late-morning, but a mage guild in the city would have been open for business for at least a couple of hours by now. Was everyone… out?

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there?"

There was no response.

He frowned. There wasn't exactly an obvious door to knock upon, so he walked slowly into the encampment, heading towards the largest of the huts. He strained his senses for any sign of life; he subconsciously drew his magic to him, ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice. Was this a trap? Had the Council figured out what he was planning, and set an ambush for him here?

"Hello?" he repeated. "Anyone?"

" _SIEGRAIN!_ "

He hadn't been expecting a response. He certainly hadn't been expecting someone to suddenly squeal that name at the top of their voice. He jumped a mile – and the next thing he knew, a bolt of blue shot out of the nearest tent flap and attached itself to his leg.

"Hey, hey!" he shouted, startled, hopping around and trying ineffectually to shake off the thing clinging to him. "What the hell?"

"I knew you'd come back," said the voice, with a hint of smugness.

Siegrain froze. He recognized that voice, and it brought back nightmares. "…Wendy?"

She grinned up at him happily and tried to wave, which only resulted in her losing her grip on his leg and falling to the floor. Though she bounded immediately back to her feet with unbridled enthusiasm, he seized the opportunity to take a few hasty steps backwards. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Her response was as cheerful as ever. "I live here!"

"In the guild?"

"Yup!" Proudly, she twisted to show him her guild mark. "I'm a part of Cait Shelter!"

"But guilds are for mages."

She pouted. "I'm a mage."

"No, you're not," he said, with a laugh that caused the little girl to fix him with a look of comical anger.

"I am too!"

"Nope. Little shrimps like you can't use magic."

"Can too," she huffed. "And I'm not a shrimp. I'll show you when we're fighting monsters."

"You- wait, who said anything about fighting monsters?"

"Well, that's why you're here, isn't it? So that we can go on another adventure like last time and save the day again!"

He stared at her, astonished. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. That was _not_ an adventure, and even if it was, we're certainly not going on another one. I only came here to get some directions from the guild. I had no idea that you were here, or I probably would have stayed well clear," he added under his breath.

"Well, maybe I can help," she said brightly.

"Yeah, I doubt it."

"I was helpful last time, wasn't I?"

"No, Wendy. Last time, your interference almost got me executed. It is nothing short of a minor miracle that I'm still alive."

"I knew it would work out once you told them who you were…" she muttered, but she turned her face away slightly. Perhaps it was the closest thing he was going to get to an apology.

Not that he cared. "Look, is there an adult around here that I can talk to?"

"Nope."

"What do you mean, _nope?_ You're not telling me you live here on your own, are you?"

"Nope. I live with Master Roubaul and the others in the guild. But they're asleep."

"What, all of them?" Wendy nodded enthusiastically. Her obvious honesty did not make this situation any easier for him to understand. "But it's nearly midday!"

"Yesterday was a feast day," she explained. "All the adults stay up until sunrise on feast days, and then everyone sleeps in. Master Roubaul says it's because of all the beer." Here she paused, and frowned. "I'm not allowed to drink the beer. So I get up and do all the chores in the morning before everyone else wakes up!"

"…Are you seriously telling me that everyone in this place who might be able to help me is severely hung over?" Wendy blinked at him, not understanding. He gave a groan. "I get the worst luck."

She shrugged. "Maybe I can help," she said again.

He gave up. "Well… maybe you can, if you live round here. I'm on an important mission for the Council to find some bad guys who are hiding out in a tomb that's supposedly somewhere nearby. Do you know of anything like that?"

"Hmm." Her forehead creased in concentration. For the briefest moment, she almost looked cute. "Yup, I do know one. The Tomb of… uhh… Aza… Aza… Aza-something," she concluded proudly.

"Azakael?"

"That might be it."

"Can you tell me how to get there?"

A sly look entered her eyes. Siegrain immediately revised his earlier judgement of her. This girl was not cute at all. "I could _show_ you how to get there."

"It would be easier if you just told me," he countered warily.

"Yeah, but then you'd run off and I wouldn't get to come with you."

Damn, she had seen right through him. He tried to reason with her. "Wendy, you _can't_ come with me. I'm on important Council business. I can't babysit a child while hunting dark guilds; it's too dangerous for both of us."

Her shoulders slumped in anguish. "But… even though it was dangerous last time, I still had fun. I got to explore the forest, and see Rune Knights fighting up close, and you were there... I want to travel with you again, like before."

"Wendy, we've been over this. I'm not the one you travelled with." He had meant to come across as harsh, but for some reason, his voice was even gentler than before.

"Yeah, I know." She gave the ground a sad stare. "But we're friends, aren't we? I want to come with you."

"You can't come with me. And that's final."

She gazed at him imploringly; he stared impassively back. Wendy was the first to glance away, forfeiting the contest, and she sat herself down in the middle of the trail, folding her arms. "Then I shan't tell you where the tomb is."

"Fine," he agreed readily, sitting cross-legged opposite her. "I'll just wait for someone else in the guild to wake up, and then I'll get _them_ to tell me."

They sat in stony silence for a minute or two. Wendy refused to look at him, instead pulling little bits of grass out of the ground. He waited without complaint. He was a master of the long game; the Tower had been years in the making, and his plan with the Council required abnormal levels of patience. If an eight-year-old girl thought that she could outlast him in this game, she was sorely mistaken.

Sure enough, it was only a minute later that she muttered, "It's really not far from here. We could be there and back before anyone else wakes up, if you just let me come with you."

Siegrain gave a sigh. "Look, Wendy. Why do you want to come with me so badly?"

She tilted her head to one side, thinking about it for a moment. When she finally answered, he was expecting some sort of response about Jellal or something that had happened in her past, and he was completely taken aback when she offered him a radiant smile. "Because you'll get into all sorts of trouble without me around."

"…I'm sure I will, but I don't think that you being there will make any difference on that count."

She shook her head sagely. "You need someone to look after you."

"No, I don't," he muttered, disgruntled. Where was she getting a stupid idea like that from? He was perfectly capable of looking after himself. As if his combat capabilities and the way he was deceiving the Council weren't enough proof of that, he had also taught himself to cook from scratch in a matter of days. Whichever way he looked at it, he was absolutely fine on his own.

But would having someone else with him be such a bad thing? Putting aside the fact that Wendy's actions had very nearly led to his untimely execution at the hands of the Council, she _had_ been useful in tracking Nirvana, and he hadn't minded her company _that_ much. It was kind of endearing, the way that she trusted him unconditionally and kept insisting that he was a good person. It would keep him amused, at least.

"Okay," he said. "You can come with me." She jumped to her feet, letting out a victorious whoop. He fixed her with a stern look, and she quietened immediately. Well, he supposed that obedience was a good start. "But there are two conditions. First of all, you've got to do exactly as I say. Let me lead, follow my instructions, and above all, _don't_ talk to any Rune Knights or anyone else from the Council. Got that?"

She nodded. He continued, "And secondly, I'm not going to come and save you if you're in danger. So stay out of trouble and leave the fighting to me, understood?"

"Yup!" The little girl was so eager that she could hardly contain her excitement, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Under her impatient gaze, he got to his feet.

"Right then, Wendy. Lead on."

"Sure!" She immediately grabbed his hand and began tugging him in the direction of the camp's exit. He groaned inwardly as he stumbled along behind her, already regretting this decision. He wondered idly if bringing children to work was grounds for instant dismissal for a mage of the Council. What the hell had he started?

* * *

"Here it is!"

After another half an hour of trekking through the forest, numerous backtracks, enough inane one-sided chatter from the girl to test even the limits of _his_ patience, and one horrifying moment where Wendy had turned to him, grinned, and proudly announced that she was completely lost, they had finally made it to the tomb. It would probably have been faster if Siegrain had just searched for it on his own – and certainly a lot less stressful – but this was hardly the best time to be regretting his decision to bring her along.

The tomb was a simple structure, nothing more than a small stone building in the centre of a clearing in the forest. He knew all too well how deceiving looks could be, however. This was just the entrance, and he could almost sense the maze of tunnels spreading out from it beneath his feet. Moss had not yet crawled high enough up the walls to completely conceal the blasphemous sigils carved into the stone. Perhaps the unnerving feeling he couldn't quite shake off was the result of more than just their proximity to the dead.

Of more interest to him were the evident signs of human activity in the clearing. There were fresh ruts in the mud where the great slab of a door had been recently pushed aside, and besides, no animal could have made the poorly concealed boot prints around the tomb, or left those strands of fabric clinging to the branches. This was definitely their destination.

"Are we going inside?" Wendy asked him, her eyes bright with curiosity. To his dismay, she wasn't showing any signs of fear. So much for his hope that he'd be able to ditch her at the entrance.

"Feel free to wait outside," he told her pointedly, but he wasn't surprised when she gave a quick shake of her head. He stepped up to the door and examined it carefully. While he may not have had much experience in breaking into ancient tombs, one learned early on in his trade that there was no such thing as being too cautious. Paranoid dead mages were hardly known for their hospitality.

"What's that?" Wendy inquired, pointing to a line of carved runic characters along the top of the door.

"Ancient writing."

"What's it say?"

"Uhh… disturb not the rest of Azakael the Mighty, or, ah… something about terrible misfortune, and then… something, something. Doom, maybe? Something doom?" She gave him an unimpressed look. "Hey, have you any idea how difficult it is to translate an ancient magical language like that without any of my research notes?" he retorted, defensively. "You should be impressed that I even managed to get the first bit."

"I could have guessed the first bit."

"Oh, shut up."

He put his shoulder to the edge of the stone slab and gave it a push in the direction indicated by the ruts on the ground. It didn't take much effort to move it aside, revealing stairs leading down into a dark pit, where even the midday sunlight couldn't reach.

Wendy peered into the depths with utter fearlessness. "Who was this Azakael person anyway?"

Siegrain wasn't entirely sure himself. He had encountered the name once or twice before in ancient texts, but nothing more than that. He couldn't have done anything important in history, or he'd have remembered where he'd seen the name. "Some mage who lived a few hundred years ago. He was a member of one of Zeref's cults," he explained with a shrug, taking his first step down the stairs. "Then again, who wasn't back then? No one who actively opposed Zeref lived long enough to leave their mark on history."

The sunlight rapidly became insufficient to light their way, so he turned to his magic instead, pushing it into his left hand to create a small globe of light. Wendy seemed to pick up on his wariness; she stuck close to his side and shuffled along with the most caution he had ever seen a child use. They reached level ground without incident and found themselves in front of another stone door. This one was untouched by nature or the elements – the relief it bore of a bearded mage grappling with a dragon was as intricate and fearsome as the day it had been carved.

The door had no obvious handles or hinges, but that didn't faze him. There were footprints in the dust of ages; they were not the first to try and pass this way. At the centre of the sculpture was a large hemisphere where the dragon's fiery breath met the mage's magical ray in an elegant, if utterly inaccurate, explosion. A closer examination revealed a slight indent where the hemisphere could be pressed into a wall, most likely acting as a button which would open the way for them. He reached for it-

Only to stop suddenly as Wendy grabbed his hand. She was shaking her head vigorously. "It's not that one."

"What are you talking about?" he snapped.

"It's a trap." At her earnest insistence, her stopped struggling against her and listened to what she had to say. "The magic's wrong. It's dangerous. I can sense it. It'll hurt you if you touch it."

He gave the rest of the carving a cursory glance, but he still couldn't see any other means of opening the door. Furthermore, he couldn't detect any magic from the carving at all, let alone anything hostile. "Are you sure?"

She gave a firm nod. "It's shiny," she assured him, as if that explained everything.

"Well, then. How are we to open this door? I suppose I could just blast it down…"

She ignored his mumblings. Wriggling free of his grip in a practised motion, she darted forwards, jumped, and slammed her hand against the scale at the top of the carved dragon's head, just above its eyes. He let out a shout, but his worry was unfounded. A flare of magic touched his senses; a moment later, the painful sound of stone grinding on stone reached his ears, and a panel the size of an ordinary door swung inwards, opening the way.

Wendy let out an exclamation of joy and dashed forwards into the gap. She hadn't gone more than a step or two when the ground gave way beneath her. Her stomach lurched; she fell, screaming – and then stopped falling abruptly as something snagged her by the collar. She hung there for a moment or two, swinging back and forth in her companion's grip above a pit filled with spikes as long as she was tall.

"Seriously, Wendy," Siegrain sighed. "There is literally no point in you being able to detect all the magical traps if you're going to walk straight into all the non-magical ones. I mean, that one was obvious. I could have told you it was there before you even opened the door."

She tried to apologize but it came out as more of a strangled squeak. With another sigh, he deposited her safely on the ground next to him. She glanced up in gratitude, rubbing at her neck and smiling bashfully at the unimpressed expression on his face.

"I thought I told you to let me lead," he growled.

The girl nodded in shy acquiescence. Satisfied, he turned his attention back towards the pit. He assessed it to be at least fifteen metres long, and with those cruel spikes glittering up at them from below, there was no doubt that a fall would be fatal. "Okay. There's probably a lever somewhere that covers it over, but it'll be faster just to jump. Wait here."

To give himself the largest run-up possible, he walked back to the bottom of the stairs, ignoring Wendy's look of trepidation. Pausing only to draw his magic out from the void in his mind and into his limbs, he sprinted towards the pit in an explosion of energy as golden light surged through his body. He seized Wendy bodily as he shot by and propelled them both into the air. They comfortably cleared the jump, landing neatly on the far side.

Another door barred their way. Siegrain could sense the magic emanating from this one even before Wendy pointed it out to him. At their approach, a violet magic seal materialized in front of it. He flinched back, but it appeared to be dormant, innocently rotating under their scrutinizing gazes.

"It's a lock of some sort," she was saying. "I don't know how to open it, though…"

"I know. I can open this one. Stand back."

He had encountered these kinds of seals before. Fortunately, they were a lot simpler to deal with than the one binding Nirvana. That one had taken months of research; this one his magic could probably dismantle on the fly, if he was willing to pay the price. Once Wendy had retreated to a safe distance, he steeled himself and touched his right palm to the glowing circle.

Instantly, pain lanced through him. Only the fact that he had been expecting it allowed him to remain standing; with a great effort, he managed to prevent himself from screaming. The instinct to pull his hand away was strong, but he was stronger. Ignoring the protests from his body, he turned his attention inwards, seeking the source of the darkness within himself and summoning it to the surface.

Writhing shadows appeared at his outstretched hand; grotesque abominations, twisting sightlessly in a mocking mimicry of life. They sought out the magic seal, infiltrated it, consumed it, and devoured it in their endless hunger. The lock recognized the touch of that magic and accepted it; accepted _him_.

When he came to his senses he was kneeling on the ground in front of a passageway that had opened for him, shivering in the aftermath of the agony. The dark power had retreated back inside him, leaving him feeling dizzily empty. He should have been pleased, but something was bothering him. Knowing Wendy, she ought to have rushed over to check that he was okay the moment he had collapsed, but she hadn't. Even now she was keeping her distance, watching him warily from up against one of the walls.

"What did you just do?" she whispered. That scared tone of voice was probably her version of an accusation.

He shrugged, not making much of an effort to conceal his annoyance. "Just magic."

"That wasn't your normal magic. I don't like it."

"I don't care if you like it or not. It opened the way for us, didn't it?"

She shook her head, sticking her bottom lip out stubbornly. "Promise me you won't do it again."

He tried to laugh it off, but he couldn't change the fact that her reaction was unsettling. Something about the way she was looking at him bothered him. Then again, it might not be such a bad idea to keep that power hidden. He had only ever used his other – and far more ordinary – magic in front of the Council, and having a secret weapon up his sleeve might come in handy later. He pulled a face. "Fine. I won't." _While you're around_ , he added silently.

She gave a slow nod. "Okay." As if relieved by his concession, she hastened to his side and tried to help him up. "Do you think we're nearly there?"

"I have no idea, Wendy. Do I look like the man who built this place?"

"Guess not." She traipsed along behind him as he set off down the tunnel. "Do you do this a lot?"

"Tomb-robbing?" This time he did laugh. "No, Wendy, I don't make a habit of it. I'm only here because the Council ordered it. What kind of person do you think I am?"

She just shrugged, not really following. "Why are there so many traps down here anyway? Dead people don't need protecting… do they?"

"That's not really the point. Powerful mages liked to be buried with their most precious possessions, and the last thing they would have wanted was for some thief to take them after they're dead."

"But why? If their magic items and their books are buried with them then no one else can use them."

"That's the idea, yes."

"But that's just… pointless. Isn't it? So much stuff could be lost! There might be really cool, useful things down here that no one knows about!"

"I can't say I disagree with you there," he chuckled. "Mages from this era weren't exactly known for their selflessness, though. Besides, I already mentioned they were paranoid. It wasn't just their possessions they were protecting – there was always a fear that an enemy mage might get hold of their dead body and use it for nefarious purposes, like necromancy or even experimenting with trying to bring them back to life. There was a lot of that going on back then."

"My mother told me never to try bringing anyone back to life with my magic," said Wendy, sadly. "She said it wouldn't work, and it would be disast- disasterful."

"Disastrous," he corrected, with a small smile. "And she was right. That sort of magic is very dangerous indeed. Only a true dark mage would even dream about meddling with it."

"You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing."

"Wendy, if you make one more insinuation that I'm the kind of person who likes to break into tombs, there'll be trouble."

"What's an insinyouashon?" she asked cheerfully.

"Oh, forget it," he muttered, striding deeper into the tomb.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** There's nothing like some good old-fashioned adventuring! It's been too long since I've been able to write something like this. Oh, and as you've probably noticed, since Jellal has now actively chosen to adopt the persona of Siegrain, that is how I will be referring to him from now on... or at least, for the foreseeable future. There are many many reasons for this decision and I'll defend it if you make me, but to be honest having a match between how he's referred to in the narration and what the other characters call him in the speech is just so much neater than the alternative. Anyway, that's it from me until next week; I hope you enjoyed the chapter! ~CS_


	5. On Unholy Ground

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-On Unholy Ground-**

Slowly but surely, the unlikely duo made it down to the lowest level of the tomb through a balance of good luck and teamwork. Travelling with Wendy was an interesting experience, to say the least. Though her cheerfulness, so out of place in those dark and perilous tunnels, tested Siegrain's patience, her skill was incredibly useful – it more than made up for how carefully he had to observe her to check she wasn't running on ahead or blundering into any traps. When a pressure plate had caused two statues to come alive and attack them, for example, his magic hadn't been able to scratch them, but she had easily been able to locate the lacrima powering them, letting him smash the magic-storing crystals and turn the statues to dust.

Another corridor had been criss-crossed with a web of tripwires which had been almost invisible to him, thanks to the concealing magic wrapped around them. By contrast, they were as clear as day to Wendy, for though she couldn't see the wires themselves she could sense the glimmer of the magic supposed to be hiding them. She had guided him through the maze with careful instructions – and they would have made it safely, had she not tripped over her own feet and broken several of the lines herself. As the ceiling had caved in on top of them, he had been forced to run for it with her tucked under his arm; only by pushing his magic to the limit had they managed to escape alive.

In other words, her clumsiness and inexperience more than made up for her ability to sense magic. Even with that gift, she would never have survived alone. Conversely, he was confident he would have been able to make it through on his own, but probably not as quickly, and certainly not without sustaining an injury or two in the process. Maybe encountering her had been a stroke of luck after all.

There hadn't been a trap for a while now. Added to the fact that the corridor they walked down was dimly lit by lacrima, rather than shrouded in darkness, it suggested to him that they had almost reached the place where the old mage was buried. His feeling became certainty when Wendy tugged at his cloak to catch his attention. "There are people up ahead," she whispered. "Three mages, I think."

"I know. I sense them too. Leave the fighting to me and remember what I told you: stay out of sight, because I'm not coming to save you."

"Got it."

Light streamed out from the half-open door at the end of the corridor. Creeping up to it, with Wendy like an obedient shadow at his side, he waited long enough for his eyes to mostly adjust to the brightness, and then he burst inside.

Startled shouts greeted him. There were three men in the room, along with a flashy golden coffin and a collection of other treasures that were of absolutely no interest to him. He was only here to fight; his mind shut out everything that wasn't of immediate importance about his environment and his enemies' appearances just as automatically as it forced the light of his magic to his fingertips.

One of them turned to him with widening eyes. "You're-!" he began. He never got the chance to finish. Siegrain shot across the distance between them in less time than it had taken him to get that one word out, seized him by the neck without losing any momentum, and drove him straight into the wall.

Well, he wasn't exactly going to wait for polite invitation. Even had he not been working for the Council, dark guilds weren't his allies – if anything, they were rivals. He would negotiate only if there was no other choice. One didn't become as good at combat as he was by talking things through with all the enemies he came across.

He was fully aware that Wendy was watching, and besides, the Council had requested that he bring the dark mages in alive if at all possible, and he really ought to try and make a good impression on his new employers. He dropped his speed shortly before impact; as a result, his opponent slumped to the ground at the foot of the wall, comatose but still technically alive.

Speed was his ally. He released his grip on the limp body while shifting the focus of his magic, pivoting on one leg and driving his foot into the chest of the second enemy. This was the power that had shattered the claw of a giant mutant bear; a mere human, caught flat-footed by his opponent's expertise, didn't stand a chance against it. His ribs cracked once under the impact, and then again as he was thrown back against the coffin. He too didn't get back up.

Now Siegrain was vulnerable. He had known that would be the case; the element of surprise was always going to be insufficient to take out three opponents. If the final mage tried to hit him with magic now, while his back was turned, he could neither dodge nor defend against it. Fortunately, his enemies weren't as experienced as he was – and his intimidation attempt had worked. His gamble paid off; no attack landed in his moment of weakness and he turned to find that the room behind him was empty.

"He went that way!" Wendy shouted eagerly, pointing towards the opening of a tunnel.

Pausing only to nod in thanks, he sprinted off in the direction she had indicated. The girl tried to follow him but quickly fell behind, and he had no intention of slowing down to wait for her; not when he could hear the desperate footsteps of his prey. Just a little more-

He rounded a bend in the tunnel and found himself in the middle of a hail of darts. Another trap. He cursed inwardly; after the burial chamber, he had assumed he was past the worst of them, and had let his guard down. He did his best to jump aside at the last minute, to no avail – two sunk into his right thigh, one into his left, one into each bare arm and a further three into his torso. They stung like insect bites, at once infuriating and itchy.

Little wounds like that wouldn't stop him, of course. With the adrenaline of combat surging through him, he kept running, round the corner and into a great hall lined with cobweb-laced pillars. The last of the dark mages stood at the end of the hall. He had stopped running, and regarded his opponent with something akin to amusement.

Fine. If he thought he'd do better in a straight fight, Siegrain was more than happy to oblige him.

He managed two steps towards his opponent before his legs collapsed underneath him. The numbness spread so quickly he barely had time to register the danger before he was sprawled on the ground.

Realizing his mistake, he turned his attention towards removing the darts. He managed to pull the three out of his legs before his arms also stopped responding to his orders. Growling as the world swam around him, he tugged the rest of them out using his teeth, but by the time he had managed that, he hardly had the energy to move. Slumped on his side, he could do nothing more than glare impotently at his opponent.

"Fast-acting, isn't it?" gloated the dark mage. "I lost a subordinate to that trap the first time we broke into this place, and immediately had it re-armed in case any fool chased us down here. If the runes on the walls are to be believed, the poison comes from a poison dragon. Isn't it marvellous how it hasn't lost its potency over the years? And it's not even the most interesting thing we found down here. Though you must know that, or you wouldn't have come after us, right, Jellal?"

A wordless growl was the only response he received.

The mage chuckled. "Do you want to know how you're going to die? The poison works by slowing down everything in your body – your nerve impulses, your muscle contractions, your blood flow; everything. Once it reaches your heart, you've got… ooh, about thirty seconds left to live."

Was it just his imagination, or was his heartbeat really slowing down? It was difficult to tell. The cold numbness drowned out all other feelings.

"And I'd love to stay and watch, but I know you didn't come here alone, so I'll be taking my leave. Do give my thanks to old Azakael here for constructing such a wonderful trap, when you meet him in hell." And with a final gleeful laugh, the man left the room.

Then there was silence, blessed silence, broken an eternity or maybe only a few seconds later by an ear-piercing screech. "SIEGRAIN!"

"Wendy…" he managed to murmur. His vision was far too blurry for him to make out her face, but that voice was unmistakable. "Get out of here…"

"Don't be silly." Was she really using her cross tone of voice on him _now?_ Clueless girl. She had no concept of how much danger she would be in without him. And then, to make matters worse, she insisted, "I'm not leaving you."

They weren't words he wanted to hear from her – they weren't words he ever wanted to hear from _anyone_. "On the edge of the forest…" he managed to gasp. "Rune Knights… tell them what happened… they'll help you…"

The world faded to black with his eyelids still open; at last his visual perception of the world matched the dead nothing he was receiving from his other senses. His body had completely shut down. All that was left now was to wait to die.

But apparently someone had repealed the laws of causality without telling him. Death should have been inevitable in that situation, yet for some reason, he wasn't dying. Rather, a gentle warmth was spreading through his body, banishing the lethargy and reviving his senses of touch and of physical pain. Bursts of colour decorated the darkness of his vision – and then the world suddenly snapped back into place in all its three-dimensional glory, from the room and its shadowy pillars to the sight of Wendy kneeling next to him. Her eyes were closed in concentration. A faint green light radiated from her palms, which he could feel resting against his chest.

"Wendy…?" he murmured. His voice may have been weak, but the fact that he could talk at all was surprising enough.

She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. Upon seeing that he was awake, she gave a beaming smile and threw herself at him, hugging him while he was still too weak to resist. "See?" she retorted, brimming with smug happiness. "I _told_ you I was a mage."

"You… can use healing magic?"

"Yup!"

Already he was feeling stronger. He pushed himself into a sitting position, and when that seemed to go without a hitch, he turned his attention to dislodging Wendy from her place sat on him, and deposited her on the ground beside him. "I thought healing was a Lost Magic," he remarked, more to himself than to her.

Sure enough, she just shrugged, not understanding the significance of what he was saying. "My mother taught me it. Though I can't use it much because it makes me really tired."

As if to prove her point, she rested her forehead against his chest, using him to help support her weight. For once, he didn't object. He knew the signs of magical exhaustion when he saw them. "I'm not surprised, a little shrimp like you using big powerful magic like that."

She grinned in satisfaction. "I'm learning support magic too, but I'm not very good at that yet because I don't have anyone to practise with. But I'm definitely going to work hard so that I can help you!"

"Thank you, Wendy." And he meant it. "I'm feeling a lot better now, so I ought to go after the guy who escaped before he gets too far away. Will you be alright staying here on your own for a bit?"

"Yup! Go get him!"

* * *

Without Wendy at his side, Siegrain was forced to employ his own tracking skills to locate the fleeing dark mage, but while they might have been less efficient than depending on her instincts, they were an awful lot more reliable. If the mage had run for it, he doubted he would have caught up with him – he could have been halfway to the other side of the Worth Woodsea before Siegrain had even emerged from the tomb. Fortunately for him, though, his quarry didn't have quite the same instinct for self-preservation that he did. Confident that his strongest opponent had been incapacitated by the poison, he appeared to have stopped to pick up some artefacts rather than making good his escape, and Siegrain caught him as he was leaving a side chamber with a hefty sack slung over his shoulder.

"Going somewhere?" he asked cheerfully.

"You- but- how?" stammered the dark mage, before realizing that such utterances weren't going to save his life. Cursing, he dropped the sack and raised both his hands to begin casting magic of his own.

Wendy's magic had brought Siegrain back from the brink of death but it hadn't been able to fully replenish his strength; his reaction times were still a little down on what he was used to. He had only made it halfway down the corridor when his opponent completed his spell. Violet arrows of light streaked towards him, bristling with hateful power.

The moment he registered the danger, his magic reacted to protect him; the unnatural energy that burst through his limbs more than compensated for the lethargy still clinging to his muscles. He easily avoided one and jumped another two, running along the wall for a few paces before gravity got the better of his magic and pulled him back to the floor.

Under normal circumstances, his next move would have been to summon forth the dark power sealed inside him and use it to devour his opponent. He could wield its basic form in combat quite comfortably - it was only in its most primal, and most dangerous, state that it caused him physical pain to invoke it, because he couldn't fully keep its ravenous essence from feeding back into his own magic. It may not have been as powerful here as it would have been if he called it in the heart of the Tower, but it had always proved sufficient before; with it, the living darkness was his to command.

And yet he found himself hesitating. Wendy's reaction to seeing him use that power earlier confirmed that it wasn't the kind of ability a law-abiding mage of the Council ought to be flaunting. If he was going to pretend he wasn't a dark mage, shouldn't he save that sinister magic for when he was acting as Jellal? Plus, wielding his natural magic as Siegrain and his other power as Jellal could only help to convince the Council that they were different people. Perhaps he should try winning this fight with his normal magic alone. It wasn't that it lacked power, only that he had never really needed to use it for anything other than simply boosting his physical capabilities before. Why not see what it could really do?

So instead of calling the darkness to him, he bade the magic already shining throughout his body to stay. Used to being submissive before that dark power, it was hesitant at first, and uncertain of his desire to rely upon it, but as he held it close to him, and listened, it seemed to grow in confidence and strength. It only took a little more effort than usual for him to urge its golden light to appear at his fingertips rather than within his body – far easier than it had been when he had used it to blind the monstrous bear. If his opponent wasn't going to let him get close, he was more than happy to settle this at range.

Rolling neatly under another barrage of missiles, he flung a beam of pure white energy back at his opponent. His aim was a little off, but that was only to be expected when he was trying something new in the heat of battle – and besides, he couldn't help be feel proud of the small crater the beam had left in the wall. His human opponent had neither metre-long spikes nor natural plate armour to protect himself with. With raw power like that, he only needed to hit once.

His enemy knew that too. The next blast of purple light was aimed towards the ceiling, sending shockwaves throughout the entire tunnel. Dust fell down towards Siegrain – followed by dislodged pebbles, and then lumps of rock the size of his fist, and then it seemed the whole ceiling was caving in on top of him. He gritted his teeth. Twice in one day. At least this time he didn't have Wendy to protect as well.

That made it much easier for him to push his magic to its limits. The pace of the falling rocks slowed to a crawl before his eyes – his thoughts were racing like lightning, processing battle information far faster than the human brain should have been able to, and his body responded so impossibly quickly to his commands that he might as well have had the power to slow down time. He bounced between the falling rocks like a child might run fearlessly across stepping stones. Any that came too close he destroyed with quick blasts of light. It was purely instinctive, as if that magic was bursting out of his body to protect him of its own free will.

It was so easy that he almost wanted to laugh. His magic had never been stronger. And if it wasn't for the promise he had made to Wendy – if he had fallen automatically back on his _other_ magic, as he normally did when he wasn't being observed by annoying children or suspicious Rune Knights – he might never have realized quite what he was capable of. There was so much potential in this magic that he had yet to delve into, and it came so easily to him. And even more importantly, there was no risk in it, and no cost involved – it belonged to him and him alone, and he was completely in control. He couldn't lose himself to this magic, since it _was_ him. In no time at all he had burst through the cave-in and advanced on his opponent; two swift blows to the shocked dark mage put him out of the fight for good.

Easy. The monster bear had been a _lot_ tougher than these rogue mages. If that was all it took to wrap up this kind of job, working for the Council was going to be a piece of cake. In fact, being the one doing the hunting for a change was actually rather fun. Feeling a little too pleased for someone who had been on the verge of death only a few minutes ago, he grabbed the unconscious mage's foot in one hand and the sack he had been carrying in the other and set off to find a route back to Wendy.

* * *

Wendy was sat patiently on the ground exactly where he had left her. She didn't look at all surprised to find that he had been successful – as if she had never doubted that he would return dragging an unconscious delinquent. Instead, she greeted him with the cheerful shout: "I found a way out!"

"Oh?" After briefly returning to the burial room to collect the other two criminals, he tied them and their boss securely to a pillar while waiting to hear Wendy's report.

"Yup!" She pointed towards a small opening in the wall that almost certainly hadn't been there the first time he had been in this room. "I found a secret door. There's a tunnel that leads all the way back to the forest."

He sighed. If he'd known there was a secret back entrance in the first place, it would have made this whole endeavour a lot easier. It must have been fairly straightforward to find from the surface, since it was clear that the mages he had encountered wouldn't have lasted two seconds against the traps he and Wendy had fought their way through. He guessed they had got as far as the first pit and then backtracked, searching the surrounding forest until they had found an easier way in.

Well, better late than never, he supposed. They couldn't go back the way they came. He didn't really want to fight his way through all those traps again, even if they could somehow circumvent the problem of the tunnel that had caved in on top of them. "Good spot, Wendy," he said, and she beamed with pride.

He assessed their options. "Right. I don't really fancy dragging three bodies up to the surface, so I think we'd better go find the Rune Knights and bring them back through the passageway to officially apprehend the criminals."

"Okay," Wendy agreed, though she wasn't really listening. Her child's attention span had already been stolen by something else. "What's in the bag? Treasure?"

"I have no idea. Whatever it is, though, this man was willing to gamble his chance at freedom for it. Why don't you take a look?"

"Sure!" With her usual enthusiasm, she dashed towards the discarded sack. Her fingers had almost touched the rough hemp when she suddenly had a change of heart. Without missing a step, she swerved to make a beeline directly for Siegrain, and clung on tightly to his leg.

"Wendy, what are you…?" It was then that he noticed she was shaking. She gripped him as if it was the only thing stopping her from being swept away. When she looked up at him, there was true, abject fear in her eyes. Not even the monster in the forest had provoked this strong a reaction from her. "What is it?" he asked, surprised to find that his voice had once again become gentle.

"I don't like it." Then, more strongly: "I don't like it!"

He wondered what could have scared her so badly. "Is it alive?"

She shook her head, whimpering. "No. But it's watching me. It knows I'm here." Her grip tightened and he winced. "It hurts me when I try to look at it. It's bad… It's very very bad. Let's leave it here. The men from the Council will know what to do with it, right?"

"I _am_ a man from the Council," he told her, an impatient edge to his voice. Far greater than his concern for Wendy was his curiosity as to what was in the bag. He took a step towards it; she pulled him back with all the strength her tiny body could muster. He sighed; tried to be patient. "Look, Wendy, whatever's in there, it's nothing I can't handle. You trust me, right?"

She gave a tentative nod. When he stepped forward again, she released her hold on him and let him approach it. Not quite sure of what to expect, he stuck his hand into the bag – and was surprised to find himself grasping a book.

And not just any book. When he saw what was in his hand, his heart skipped a beat; for a long moment, he simply forgot how to breathe. But it wasn't fear that had seized him. No – it was sheer, incredulous excitement. Who would have thought something like that would be hidden in a place like this? Who would have guessed that one of the genuine Books of Zeref would fall so easily into his hands?

There was power in it. _So_ much power. He could feel it burning at his fingertips: so much forbidden knowledge, so much dark magic, made all the more potent by being imprisoned in this place for four hundred hateful years. It didn't hurt him, like it had Wendy, and it certainly didn't scare him. He laughed aloud in glee.

"Siegrain…?" Wendy whispered. There was worry in her tone. It annoyed him.

"Don't worry, Wendy. It's not going to hurt you." Then he grinned, adding, "Not in _this_ form, anyway." He waved the great leather-bound tome in her direction, smiling at how she flinched back. "Look. It's inert. It's completely safe. Okay?"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her approach him. She was still scared, but her trust in him gave her confidence. It clearly wasn't hurting him, and he had promised that he could handle it, so maybe it would be okay if he kept holding on to it and didn't make her touch it.

For his part, he had already forgotten she was there. The beautiful black book captured and held his attention. From the delicate binding to the elegant calligraphy, it was utterly exquisite. It shone with the dark light of magic far exceeding the capabilities of any mage alive in the present day – that was the magic of one man and one man only: the most evil mage who had ever lived, and the most powerful, who had not been surpassed in over four hundred years.

Oh, but the things he could do with the knowledge contained in those pages! There would be no more running from the Council, that was for sure. If he could master that magic, there would be no need for him to hide who he was or what he wanted. He would be strong, stronger than anyone else – and wasn't it right that it should be him? He was the one who was going to bring this darkness back into the world, after all. This power belonged to him and him alone.

To hell with the Council. They were such fools to let him out here unsupervised. It was his first solo mission, and they had unwittingly delivered something so valuable straight into his hands. He wanted to laugh. There was no one around to stop him from taking this book straight back to the Tower. It would be hours, if not days, before the Rune Knights waiting so naively on the edge of the forest realized he was missing.

He was already striding towards the secret passageway, the black tome in his hands, when something grabbed his cloak. An alarming scowl crossed his face. In his exultation, he had completely forgotten about Wendy.

"Siegrain?" she murmured. She sounded lost; worried, but not for herself. "You're going to give that to the Council… aren't you?"

He sighed again, trying to keep his impatience under control. "Wendy, do you know what will happen if the Council get their hands on this book? They'll lock it away in an archive somewhere. No one will ever be able to see it, let alone learn from it. They're scared of things they don't understand. All this knowledge which has been buried for four hundred years will continue to be lost to us. Remember what we were talking about earlier? It would be such a waste."

He sensed more than saw the girl shaking her head. "No. That's the best thing for it. It's evil, I know it is."

"Magic isn't evil. People are. I am going to do great things with this book, Wendy. Don't get in my way."

That was an undisguised threat. Magic was flowing through him now – his magic, reacting to that contained within the relic he held. He had not called it himself; it rose up of its own accord to eliminate anyone who would stand between him and the path he had chosen. He turned to face Wendy and felt a rush of satisfaction at how she flinched back from him in fear.

But still she didn't back down. "Please," she begged him. "Please don't do this. It's only going to hurt you."

He laughed at her discomfort. "Hurt me? No, it's quite the opposite. This is power beyond anything you could imagine, Wendy, and I am taking it for myself."

"Don't," she repeated in desperation. "You don't need it. You're powerful enough already." He only laughed again. "Please, Siegrain, please!"

He did not hear her cries. He turned away – and managed all of two steps before a blur of motion shot past him. Wendy snatched the book straight out of his hands and sprinted down the passageway.

There was a brief moment of surprise, which immediately became furious, insane, consuming rage. He did not consciously use magic – he did not consciously make any decision at all – but the next thing he knew he was racing towards her in a blaze of golden light. He overtook her easily and came to a sudden halt, turning and slamming his fist into the wall hard enough to dent the stone. It was only with enormous self-restraint that he prevented his magic from striking Wendy as she took a slow, shivering step away from him.

"Give me the book, Wendy."

She clutched it to her chest, shaking her head vehemently. For someone who had been too scared to even look at it earlier, she was displaying an amount of courage that most grown mages would have envied.

"I don't want to hurt you, Wendy, but I will if you continue to defy me. Give it to me."

"I won't. If you leave here with this book then I know I won't ever see you again, and I won't let that happen no matter what." Tears and determination; her childish voice lent strength by her pure-hearted conviction. "You're my friend. I won't lose you to something like this. I won't!"

The two unlikely companions regarded each other in silence. He could no longer sense the magic of the book. He didn't _want_ to hurt her, not with the memory of how she had saved his life with her healing magic fresh in his mind, but how could he pass up this chance for the sake of one stupid girl? "Wendy…" he began; one final warning.

She held her ground. "I know you don't really want to do this. You're a good person, I know you are. It's making you think funny, that's all."

Those words struck a chord within him. He wasn't a fool. He dealt with dark magic all the time; he was, at least on some level, aware that it might not just be his own ambition making him want to run off with the book. But still, even knowing that, taking it was the rational decision. This was the power he had devoted his life to. Even the plan to infiltrate the Council was all just for this. Passing up a chance like this was utter lunacy. There was no logical reason to leave it behind.

"So what would you have me do?" Frustration seized his bitter words and turned them into a shout. "Leave it here, so that some other dark mage can find it and use it to bring death and ruin down upon the world?"

He glared at her; she shuffled her feet almost apologetically. "Well… you could always give it to the man from the Council who's been following us. I think he'd know what to do."

"I already told you, the Council- wait, what man from the Council?"

She blinked at him, as if trying to assess whether his confusion was genuine, or some sort of ploy. "Well, you know," she replied uncertainly. "The one… who was following you."

"Wendy, we definitely weren't followed here. I made sure of it. A bunch of Rune Knights came with me from Era, but they waited on the edge of the forest. I was checking to make sure I wasn't being pursued the entire time. I didn't see, hear or sense anyone else anywhere nearby."

"We were definitely followed. I could sense him hanging around close to Cait Shelter when we met, and then he followed us to the tomb, always just at the edge of my range. He has a really strong magical presence, so when there aren't many people around, I can see him from quite a long way away. I can sense him now. He's definitely still here."

Siegrain's eyes widened. "Did he follow us into the tomb?"

"Nope. He waited outside. I think he's outside the secret entrance now… Yeah, he is."

There was another long pause as they regarded each other, except that this time, their hostility had been completely forgotten. Wendy's voice was regaining its usual joviality as the turn of the conversation distracted her from what had almost come to pass.

"Wendy, are you _absolutely_ sure that we were followed? I was keeping an eye out the entire time and I couldn't sense anyone at all."

"Well," she said, matter-of-factly, as if it somehow explained everything, "That's because you're not a dog."

"…I beg your pardon? Wendy, if this is another one of your utterly illogical metaphors…"

"Nope! This is how Master Roubaul explained it to me!" For some reason, that wasn't very reassuring. "You know how there are those whistles that dogs can hear but people can't?"

"The high frequency ones? Sure."

"Well, it's like that. He says I'm kind of like a dog, so when people try to hide their magic, they can make it invisible to normal people but it still looks the same to me. He also thinks I might not be able to do it so well when I get older, so I might as well use it now."

Now that was interesting. It was possible to learn to hide one's magical presence from detection by others in the same way one could train to move silently or camouflage oneself to hide in their surroundings. Everyone could do it to some extent. He was fairly good at it himself. He had had to learn, and learn quickly, given his reputation as one of the Magic Council's most wanted.

If there was a certain range over which normal detection of magic operated, then it made sense for someone to only conceal their magical presence over that range. Perhaps they weren't aware that a wider range existed, or that certain humans – like Wendy – could access such a range. An assassin might only think to hide himself from visible light, not the infrared spectrum too – and all the camouflage in the world wouldn't shield him from an opponent using infrared goggles. And Wendy appeared to have been blessed with the magical equivalent of infrared goggles, or, as she put it, a dog's hearing.

Given the analogous phenomenon of a human's hearing range decreasing as they aged, the idea that her sensitivity might drop over time seemed like a logical one. Still, that was true of _all_ humans, and he had neither met nor read about anyone else with an ability like Wendy's. Then again, she was incredibly young to be able to use as powerful magic as she did. Perhaps awakening her own magic so young had affected the development of her senses. It was an intriguing idea, and he made a mental note to look into it as soon as he got back to Era. He wondered how many tests he would have to pass before the Council would let him into their Archives - the greatest store of magical knowledge anywhere on the continent, forbidden or otherwise.

And the moment that distracted thought crossed his mind, any last resentment he may have harboured towards this girl drained away. "That's one hell of a gift you've got there." It was more him thinking out loud than it was him trying to compliment her, but she beamed with pride anyway, all her fear completely forgotten.

Something occurred to him then and he asked, "Say, do you know who it is that's following us?" She shook her head. "But you're certain he's from the Magic Council?"

"Yup. I remember him from the last time we were there. He kind of stood out, because his magical presence is so strong."

"Can you tell what kind of magic he has?"

Another shake of the head. "I don't know it. It's not one I've seen before. It's…" She tilted her head to one side in her usual childish gesture as she tried to think. "It's like the sky. You know, after the sun goes down, but before it's properly dark. Like the really dark blue when night falls. Mysterious but not unfriendly… more like it's just waiting to be filled with stars."

"…Right. Well, that was completely unhelpful, thanks for that."

"He's mega powerful, though."

"If you say so."

"Like, _way_ more powerful than you."

"Alright, alright, I get it already…"

And then, all of a sudden, he _did_ get it. He understood what he should have known from the moment Wendy first mentioned their stalker. If he had run, he would already be dead. No – most likely, they would have let him get to the Tower first, and in doing so he would have led his enemies right into the midst of his cult. Then this man, this powerful agent of the Council, would have killed him and wiped out his followers and destroyed their hideout and their knowledge and the weapon they were building all in one go. He would have lost everything.

And that, he realized, had been the test that he had failed to spot. The Council had known – or at least guessed – that the rogue mages had got their hands on the Book of Zeref hidden in the tomb. They had deliberately made him think they had let him out unsupervised, knowing that if he really was Jellal, he wouldn't be able to resist taking the book and running. And the moment he did so, the expert agent they had sent to tail him would be upon him in an instant. He had severely underestimated the Council. It hadn't crossed his mind that they might have mages on their side who were at least as strong as, if not stronger than, himself. If Wendy hadn't stopped him, he would already be dead.

 _I need this girl._

The realization hit him like a physical blow. He needed her to be his eyes and ears, with her exceptional talent for detecting magic. He needed her to be his support, with that extraordinary healing gift she had. And, most importantly, he needed her to be his conscience. He needed her to act as his moral compass, keeping him in line and stopping him from making any more mistakes until he had managed to earn the Council's trust.

Since he had seized control of the Tower, he had not relied on anyone other than himself. Other human beings couldn't be trusted. They were weak. They would only let him down. Now, to his amazement, he found himself looking to this innocent eight-year-old girl for guidance – and it didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have done. He needed her. He accepted that. He could not do this alone.

"Siegrain…?"

He realized with a start that he had been stood there staring at her in silence for a good couple of minutes. He fixed her with a stern look. "Wendy, why didn't you tell me that we were being followed?"

"You told me not to talk about anyone from the Council!"

"…I told you not to talk _to_ anyone from the Council."

"Well, I didn't do that either."

He heaved a sigh. "True, but… well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Next time, be sure to tell me straight away, okay?"

"Okay." Wendy agreed automatically. It was a moment or two later that her eyes lit up, as he had known they would when her brain finally processed what he had said. "You mean that I can come with you next time too?"

"Sure. You helped me out a lot today. You have a surprisingly useful skillset for a shrimp."

She let out a squeal of delight and dashed towards him, only to trip and fall flat on her face. Rolling his eyes, he helped her up with one hand and picked up the fallen book with the other. "Then again, you're going have to start looking after yourself a little better than this…"

"Sorry!" she chirruped. Nothing could dampen her spirits at that moment. "So, what do we do now? Want to go and track down the guy who was following us?"

"No, I have a better idea. He obviously doesn't want to be seen, so he'll be upset if he knows you've spotted him. Let's keep pretending that we don't know he's there. There are Rune Knights waiting for me at the edge of the forest, though, so why don't we go and give the book to them? They'll know what to do with it. We can get them to arrest the mages we caught while we're at it, and then I'll take you back to your guild. Does that sound good?"

"Yup!" As he moved to put the book back in the sack and check that the prisoners were securely bound, she called to him again. "I'm glad you stayed, Siegrain."

He turned in surprise to see her stood bashfully with her hands clasped together in front of her. She didn't blame him in the slightest for what he had done, nor for what he had been about to do. She still adored him; trusted him unconditionally. A small smile touched his lips. "Yeah, so am I. Thank you, Wendy."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** So, Jellal has decided he's going to infiltrate the Council without giving any real thought to how he's going to achieve this, or what such a move will actually entail. He gravely underestimates his opponents - in fact, he's way out of his depth. While he has exceptional raw talent, both in combat/magic and in political dealings, he simply lacks the experience to deal with real enemies in the real world, probably thanks to his isolated and somewhat abnormal upbringing. That's what I'm trying to convey here, anyway. _

_That being said, he won't make the same mistake twice. He is arrogant, yes, but that arrogance is tempered by self-awareness, cunning, and a preternatural talent for survival. Having been made painfully aware of his own naivety, rather than giving in to pride and trying to sweep it under the rug, he will accept it, act on it, and move forward with a new respect for the danger of the game he has embarked upon. And that maturity, manifesting here as the acknowledgement that he needs Wendy's help, more than compensates for his inexperience._ _As much as I want to write him as an overpowered super-evil badass (and I will in time, trust me), it's the ability to accept and acknowledge his own weaknesses that makes him the equal of the challenge he has set himself at this moment in time._

 _Ah, rant over. Probably shouldn't do that from now on. The word count of this story will go through the roof if I write about how much I love Jellal at the end of each section... Well, thanks for reading anyway, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! ~CS_


	6. Give the World to Me

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Give the World to Me-**

Siegrain did exactly as he had promised. First they went to rendezvous with the Rune Knights. According to Wendy, they were followed the entire way back by their mysterious stalker. Despite his best efforts, Siegrain still couldn't sense him, but he trusted Wendy – and even if he hadn't, the looks of surprise quickly hidden on the faces of the Knights as he reappeared confirmed the nature of the trap from which he had narrowly escaped. "I'm sure you have protocols for dealing with this sort of thing," he told them cheerfully as he handed over the Book of Zeref, and set off again to take Wendy home, leaving the spluttering Captain Bartley behind.

Thankfully, Cait Shelter was no longer a ghost town. Once news of their missing mage had spread, almost every member of the guild had dragged themselves out of their tents to look for her. Their concern for Wendy was touching. Siegrain didn't think they'd react kindly to him stealing her away while their backs were turned – and he highly doubted they'd believe that _she_ had been the one who had forced _him_ to take her along – so he said farewell to her outside the guild, promising to drop by and pick her up next time he was in the area for a mission. After that, he left her alone to explain to her concerned fellow mages where she had been.

Once that was done, he reported in to the Council via Thought Projection, as he had been ordered. There would be a full debriefing once he had returned, but he wanted to casually let them know that he had passed their test as soon as possible. Not that he mentioned a word of that to them, of course.

He guessed he was still being watched, so the moment he had completed his report he cast another Thought Projection without changing his physical position, this time throwing his perception out to the Tower. He was pleasantly surprised by how well the construction work was keeping to schedule, even without him there to oversee the progress in person.

That was one advantage of the change of regime, he supposed. When he had been a slave there, he – and everyone else – had hated their masters, and would have taken any moment of their absence as the chance to stage a revolt. That was why he had changed things. Better working conditions. More liberties for his followers. To those high up in his chain of command, he was a lifelong friend, as well as their boss. His aspirations were their aspirations too. Granted, none of them knew quite the depths to which his terrible dreams extended, but for the time being they were loyal and they were trustworthy, and that was what made this plan with the Council feasible.

At last, he was free to take the leisurely route back to Era. There was no need to hurry. The Council wouldn't call him in for another mission until he had delivered his full report in person tomorrow morning. It was late afternoon by the time his train finally pulled into the station of the city that had so abruptly become his home.

He knew the way to his flat now without even having to think about it; yet another sign that he was becoming used to life in the bustling city. As was his custom, he turned the key in the lock of the door, opened it just a little, and then paused, straining his hearing to the fullest. Sure enough, he could hear the distinct sound of a certain old lady wittering on about nothing in particular. He rolled his eyes. Now this was a problem he _never_ had to deal with at the Tower.

Slowly, silently, he pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer. With practised motions, he turned and closed the door behind him, holding the latch and letting it rotate a fraction of a turn at a time so that it wouldn't give an audible snap. Once that was safely accomplished, he surveyed the scene before him. The door to the ground floor flat was wide open; the sound of blissful chatter reached his ears. Fortunately, he had been inside that flat enough times against his will to know that the doorway was out of sight from the living room, so after assessing the tone of the voice for a moment to check that the speaker was definitely sat down and not about to get up to put the kettle on or anything inevitably ironic like that, he tiptoed past the open door and made it to the stairs.

This was a completely difference challenge. Gritting his teeth, he drew upon all the knowledge he had gained from past experience. _The first step squeaks_ – so he stepped over it smoothly. _Stick to the left hand side for the next two steps. Then jump the fifth and hug the right-hand wall for the sixth and seventh steps – but don't touch the right-side handrail, because it groans._ He executed the planned moves with expert finesse. Seriously, it was easier to break into the tomb of a long-dead evil mage than it was to safely enter his own home-

And the moment he was distracted by his thoughts, and the obstacle course no longer held his full attention, he made a mistake. He slightly misjudged his jump for the sixth step; though he made it safely, his foot hit the ground with a little more force than usual. He winced. There was no way a normal person would have heard that, but-

In the next instant, a high-pitched voice rang out through the stillness. "Siegrain? Is that you?"

What the hell _was_ she? Muttering something under his breath that the old lady would certainly not have approved of, he jumped back down to the ground floor. "Yeah, I'm back," he shouted, with a resigned sigh.

"Didn't I tell you to drop in when you were passing?" she reprimanded him, in that cross tone which, when used by the elderly, was far more effective a warning than a raised voice.

Siegrain rolled his eyes but entered the ground floor flat. He was still not quite used to its owner's preferred choice of interior design. The entire apartment was a hoarder's heaven – if the things you liked to hoard involved fur, frills, needlework, ribbons, or all of the above. There was not a single square inch of free surface in the whole house. Decorative china crockery, antiques of all descriptions, aging teddy bears, silver figurines, cushions of all styles and sizes – if you could name it, Mrs Mollins would have it somewhere, and usually in a garish shade of pink. Far from being messy, however, her collection was meticulously ordered and the apartment was always sparkling clean. It was almost as if she had found retirement so dull that she had intentionally picked a hobby which made dusting the place such a lengthy job that by the time she finished, the end she had started at needed doing again.

Siegrain couldn't stand the place. His dislike of the apartment only compounded the endless well of frustration that this old lady seemed to be to him. Other people were so damn annoying. It made him long for the seclusion of life in the Tower - at least there he didn't have to pretend to be polite to every goddamn person he met. In his domain, anyone who dared to act like this around him would most likely have met with either a spell in the dungeons or an unfortunate accident, depending on his mood.

Still, not an ounce of his distaste showed on his face, and his voice was perfectly courteous as he entered her living room and greeted her. "Good afternoon, Mrs Mollins." He cast a quick glance around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever it was she had been talking to. This was not always an easy task. Quite frequently her conversational partner was one of her cats, and they were so good at hiding amongst the clutter in the house that it often took three or four sweeps of his gaze to detect them.

Today, however, it had never been so easy. Even if the man in question hadn't been conveniently human-sized, his immaculate black suit ensured that he stood out against the pastel pink couch. Siegrain's eyes widened slightly in surprise, yet he managed to keep his words steady. "And good afternoon, Councillor Melchior."

"Afternoon, Siegrain," replied the young man, with a faint smile.

"Won't you stay and have tea and cake with us?" Mrs Mollins asked, an order dressed up as a request.

He shook his head. "Oh, no. I couldn't possibly intrude."

That excuse rarely worked on this particularly nosy old lady, but to his good fortune, Melchior interjected, "Actually, you're the one I was hoping to run into. I didn't think you would be so long in getting back, but to my good fortune, you happen to live in the flat above my mother, so I thought I would wait here for your return."

Mother? The busybody pensioner suddenly jumped up several places in Siegrain's mental list of importance; he filed that information away for later use. Something of his interest must have shown on his face, as it prompted a girlish laugh from the beaming old lady. "You're a fortunate young man indeed, to be working for my son," she assured him, with the insufferable pride of a parent. "He'll see that you go far. After all, how many people have ever made it to the Council at his age? You know, when he was just turning twenty-one, I said to him-"

"Alright, mother," Melchior interrupted, with a saccharine smile. "I actually need to meet with Siegrain as a matter of business, so let us save this conversation for another time." Placing the china teacup he was holding back down onto its matching saucer, he turned to Siegrain. "Might we go upstairs?"

He couldn't exactly turn down a request from a councillor, no matter how out of the ordinary it was for one of them to visit him at home. Plus, he wasn't about to pass up a chance to get out of that flat before it was too late. "By all means."

Nodding in gratitude, the councillor said farewell to Mrs Mollins, promising that yes, he would drop by again as soon as work allowed him, and then he followed Siegrain up the stairs and into his flat. The small building's first floor belonged to him, and it was as different as possible to the sugary pink hell of the ground floor. The flat was completely devoid of any personal effects, decorations, or even signs of habitation. It contained furniture, kitchen appliances, and nothing else. The dishes had been washed, dried, and immediately put away; all the clothes he had were hung away out of sight; the bed was neatly made; the cushions on the sofa were as artistically arranged as they had been the day he had moved in.

Anyone hoping to learn something about his private life from his place of residence would be severely disappointed – there were no pictures of family members, or pieces of art, or anything personal at all. Then again, perhaps the absence of anything to learn from spoke volumes. It might come across as suspicious. He had never considered that before. It wasn't as if he had left the place bare out of an attempt to be secretive – he had just felt no inclination to act as if this place was anything more than a practical and temporary shelter. The Tower always had been, and always would be, the only place he called home.

The councillor did not seem at all surprised by the lack of a personal touch to the flat. In fact, he seemed to eye the neat, orderly emptiness of the place with approval. Completely at ease within another person's home, he strode in without removing his shoes and only stopped when he reached the large bay window, the cheap flat's single impressive feature. With his hands clasped behind his back, he surveyed the pedestrians in the street below.

Siegrain's eyes narrowed slightly towards the councillor's turned back. Why was he here? The evidence seemed to suggest that this was a further part of the Council's test, but he wasn't so sure, and without Wendy here to watch his back, he could only trust his instincts, and be careful. He didn't know enough about this man to make the call.

He was in his late twenties or early thirties, unusually young for a member of the Magic Council, and as before he had forsaken the formal long robes that most of the other councillors wore in favour of his expensive suit. He was tall, but not of an intimidating build; this man was a schemer, not a fighter. Clean-shaven and slick, and with crafty eyes, he was not someone to be taken lightly. In magical combat he would pose no challenge to Siegrain, but the traditional battlefield was not the one upon which this man fought, and the advantage in this duel was surely his.

After a long pause, the councillor spoke. "Good work today."

"I'm glad I could be of service."

Melchior still had not turned to face him. Siegrain did not sit either, remaining standing a respectful distance away from the other man. They studied each other via their reflections in the window, making no attempt to hide that fact. In that at least they understood each other.

"I mean it, though. There are many amongst the Council who doubt your loyalty. I am not one of them. Do you think I am a fool?"

 _Not at all. I am grateful that you have given me this chance._ That was the expected response; appropriate and therefore meaningless. After a moment's thought, Siegrain said, neutrally, "I think you are a very dangerous man."

The councillor snorted. "Not as much as you, it seems. Several of my learned colleagues are of the opinion that you are a threat. If you slip up but once, they will be upon you without mercy. Do you know why that is?"

"I have a few guesses," he replied, thinking of the Tower and wondering what the councillor was getting at.

"All of which are undoubtedly wrong. You are in a very interesting position – one of great power, if you make the right choices, and _that_ is what scares my colleagues."

"How so?"

"As I am sure you are aware, my dear colleague Byron has the vital task of keeping the dark guilds in check. His department identifies, confiscates and archives the artefacts of dark magic which are discovered in the kingdom, in order to protect our society from the dangers of forbidden magic. It has long been the belief of many in the Council that the greatest danger comes not from a foreign nation, but from within – this is the very kingdom upon whose blood-soaked soil the Black Mage Zeref once trod, after all. That is why regulating the legal guilds is so important, and why we must be intolerant to those who dabble in the black magic that brought ruin to us four hundred years ago. It would only take the wrong mage getting his hands on one of the still-missing Books of Zeref or another of the dreaded artefacts from his terrible reign to bring ruin to us all. Thus, it could be argued that Councillor Byron has the most important job of all my colleagues, for it is upon his vigilance that the security of our nation depends."

Now he paused and turned to face Siegrain directly. "Have you ever heard of the R-System?"

Caught by surprise, he could not quite conceal his shock. The Council couldn't know about the Tower – could they? Surely they would already have moved against him if they did!

Panicking internally, he scrambled to get his thoughts in order, aware of the councillor's intent gaze upon him. It was already too late to pretend that he had no idea what he was talking about; all he could do now was try to minimize the damage. "I've encountered references to it before in my studies. I wasn't aware that such magic still existed."

"Oh, it exists, alright. And if you already know what it is, then that will make this easier."

The councillor turned back to the window as he began his story. "A few years ago, a cult of sorts was uncovered by Byron's department. They were a network of dark mages spread all over the kingdom; they had power, influence, and money. Several upstanding members of the magical community – prominent mages from legal guilds; men in the upper echelons of the government itself – were found to have links to this sect. We weren't prepared to suddenly stumble upon a nationwide conspiracy right under our noses. Many arrests were made and many plots were foiled in the first week, but it barely scratched the surface of this cult's activities. By the time we had lost the element of surprise, they had retreated underground, so to speak, leaving us with very few leads.

"What we did discover was their aim. This dark cult sought to realize the ancient, terrible magic of the R-System in the modern world, and in doing so destroy the very fabric of the society that we protect. To this end, factions within the cult severed ties with each other in order to build multiple independent R-Systems in several locations at once across the kingdom, in the hope that even if most of them were discovered, one would survive until completion and the dark dreams of the cult's leaders could be realized."

Siegrain knew all this, of course. He knew more about it than the councillor himself, by the sounds of things, though naturally he kept quiet about it. That was the sort of information that would earn him a one-way trip to jail. He let the councillor continue talking instead.

"Of course, the task of finding the scattered remnants of this cult fell to the illustrious Councillor Byron – a task at which, for the past few years, he has failed abysmally. Not one lead has been discovered, nor a single prototype R-System destroyed. And while he and his subordinates wallow in a mire of incompetency, with their resources, funding and experience tied up in this utter failure of a mission, other dark guilds have been left to roam unchecked. We have no one with the knowledge and the ability necessary to track them down and deal with them. And that's why you are so important to us at the moment, Siegrain."

So that was why they were willing to give him such an important job, even faced with the very real possibility that he could be a traitor. It was a big gamble on their part. They didn't trust him – today's test with the Book of Zeref confirmed that – but they were hoping nonetheless that he would prove to be trustworthy in time. In this situation, the Council could ask for no greater ally than Jellal's good twin brother; they _wanted_ to believe the ruse. As long as he continued to give them what they wanted without stepping once out of line, he would almost certainly be able to win their acceptance. And, if he could somehow convince them that Siegrain and Jellal really were different people, he would be able to do so much more than that…

The sound of Melchior's oily voice brought him firmly back to the present. "And that's also why you are so dangerous – to the Council, and most importantly, to Byron."

"Because I'm covering for his vulnerability."

"And highlighting his own incompetency in the process. The Nirvana incident is proof of that. And that is not to mention what you accomplished today. Despite having been given only a fraction of the information his department possessed about the situation, you managed to pull off a mission that not one of his own agents had been able to do. The more you succeed at tasks that should be his to deal with, the more you will make him look like a fool – and there will surely come a point where we'll be forced to ask ourselves if Byron really is the best person for the job."

There was a touch of glee in the man's smile. Now, Siegrain could see all too clearly where he was going with this. He kept waiting, patiently; grinning inside.

"Now if you were to upstage him in some _major_ way – by, say, finding and destroying one of the R-Systems before he does – Byron's position on the Council would seem very precarious indeed, don't you think?"

Siegrain smiled in response, and asked in a voice full of as much fake innocence as he could muster, "Why, Councillor, could it be that you and Councillor Byron don't get along?"

"We have quite a history, and none of it is pleasant. He strongly opposed my appointment to the Council, and has been conspiring with some of our colleagues against me ever since. Indeed, to say that I dislike him would be a grave understatement. I cannot stand that incompetent buffoon, who retains his seat on the Council through connections alone. Continuing to depend on him in full knowledge of his shortcomings makes the Council a laughing stock in front of the guilds – the guilds that we are supposed to be controlling."

"It sounds like it would be in the best interests of the Council for me to continue working at this job to the best of my ability," replied Siegrain, non-committedly. "However, I would not want to come across as an enemy of any one member of the Council, especially given how new I am to this role." In other words, actively moving against a councillor was a dangerous career move for him, with the implication being that he would do so only if he stood to gain something in return.

Melchior understood perfectly. "I am of the personal opinion that the Council needs fewer career politicians amongst its members, and more active mages. There is no substitute for the experience gained out in the field, especially in such a crucial role as protecting our society from the dangers of dark magic. If and when the Council sees fit to have Byron stand down, I for one cannot imagine a more qualified man to take his place than the one standing right in front of me."

"Oh?" There was a lilting ring to his voice; after all, he had guessed right. "You flatter me, Councillor. Surely I am the least qualified person for such a position."

"In the short time you have been here, you have already proven yourself to be more than capable both in the field and in the political arena. I can see that you are destined for great things. It will not be easy, but then nothing of any significance in this world ever is. If we play our cards right, then I think we might be able to change this Council for the better. What do you say?"

Siegrain understood, all right – everything that the councillor was telling him, and everything that he was not. This was far more than just a personal vendetta. In putting himself forward as a potential patron, Melchior was gambling his entire reputation on Siegrain being trustworthy. Yet a man like him would never stick his neck on the line for Siegrain for the sake of revenge, let alone idealism, unless he thought the rewards were worth the risks.

He had already observed that Melchior had few, if any, allies on the Council. If he could engineer it so that Siegrain could take Byron's seat, not only would he be removing his most influential enemy, but also adding to the Council someone who was in his debt; someone who could not turn him down if he ever needed a favour in return. No, it was more than that. Melchior hoped that he would be able to manipulate Siegrain for his own ends. He was young, naïve, inexperienced – he could be _persuaded_ to act on Melchior's behalf, couldn't he?

 _Try it_ , Siegrain thought, viciously; feverishly. _You have no idea who you're dealing with here_.

The smile on his face was completely genuine as he shook the councillor's hand. "I look forward to working with you, Councillor Melchior."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I genuinely have no idea where the first part of this chapter came from. I sat down to write and it just kind of happened. For some reason, I find the idea of secret villains having to outwardly conform to all of society's expectations to be really amusing to write. It's not completely irrelevant to the rest of the story, but it's not exactly important either. Not that it's a bad thing for this story to be light-hearted while it can, I suppose. And the rest of the chapter is mostly just setting up where I'm going from here. Strictly speaking, I think that in canon all the other R-Systems were destroyed before Jellal even became Master of the Tower, but that seems like such a wasted opportunity when so much of his backstory falls neatly into place by tying those missions in with his rise to power. Anyway, short chapter this time; hope you didn't mind it! ~CS_


	7. Conflict of Interest

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Conflict of Interest-**

 **July, X781**

Master Roubaul, the leader of the mage guild Cait Shelter, tossed and turned and could not sleep. It seemed that this was becoming a frequent occurrence of late. Exhaustion and stress had slowly but surely been wearing down his usual jovial mood. Though he always put on a smile and a laugh when Wendy was around, more and more often when he found himself alone he was sullen, pensive, and restless. He couldn't even remember the last time he and his guild had thrown one of their great rowdy parties.

The reason for his unhappiness was obvious. Wendy was like a daughter to him: she was the light of his life and he loved her more than anything. In fact, it would not have been much of an exaggeration to say that she was his reason for living. The day that Jellal had brought her to him and begged him to take care of her had been the day that broke his centuries of monotony and made him feel like he was truly alive again; as if he had endured so long just for that day, to meet her. And then all of a sudden Siegrain had shown up and stolen her away again.

How he disliked that sly man from the Council! Jellal and Siegrain may have looked identical, but to Roubaul, the two of them could not have been more different. One had given him everything and the other had taken it away again. Oh, Siegrain was perfectly polite, and clearly more than capable of looking after himself; he couldn't argue with that. Besides, Cait Shelter and the Council were allies, and there was no reason why they shouldn't get along. His dislike of the man was purely personal - he just couldn't trust that he had Wendy's best interests at heart. How could he feel safe leaving her in his hands, when he knew Siegrain was deliberately leading her into danger?

So he had come to dread those days, once or twice a month, when Siegrain would drop by the guild to pick up Wendy for some mission or another – those days when he would have to watch her leave in the company of that man, not knowing when she would be back, or even if she would return at all.

And that dread was only made worse by the fact that those days of torture for him were the days that Wendy looked forward to the most. The way her face lit up when she saw Siegrain broke his heart every time. No matter what they went through together, no matter how close she came to death or what horrors she had to face at his side, her utter devotion to him never diminished, and Roubaul hated it. If he lived for the days when Wendy was safely in the guild, then Wendy lived for those few days a month she spent travelling with Siegrain, and it was slowly but surely tearing him apart.

Oh, he had known from the moment he had taken her in that one day Wendy would grow up and leave the nest. She had so much talent, and so much _wonder_ , that it would have been a waste for her to stay here for her entire life. She needed to get out into the world; to join a proper guild and make friends her own age. He just hadn't thought that that day would have to come so soon. She had only just turned nine years old, for heaven's sake. She wasn't ready to fight or to do dangerous jobs or to go out into the world. She was too innocent; too trusting. One of these days she was going to get hurt, and at the side of that devious man, he was certain that that day would not be long in coming.

So Roubaul could never sleep when Wendy was absent from the guild. His thoughts ran in circles like these all night, every night, not knowing what he could do to make the situation any better-

He sat bolt upright at the sound of a soft thump. It had come from outside the tent. Was it Wendy? Had she returned? Siegrain never stuck around for long – he knew he wasn't welcome in the guild – but after he dropped her off and disappeared again she usually came into Roubaul's tent no matter how late it was to tell him she was back. Yet, as the minutes ticked by and there was still no sign of her, Roubaul felt his unease grow. Maybe he had just imagined the sound. Then again, he wasn't exactly going to be able to sleep if he stayed, so he got up and left the tent.

Outside, the night was clear. The far-distant stars glimmered down upon the little settlement, providing the only form of illumination around the campsite. That starlight was, however, more than sufficient to allow Roubaul's sharp eyes to pick out a dark shape lying on the ground in the middle of the path.

"WENDY!"

Even as he ran forwards, he already knew what he would find: his daughter, his beloved daughter, was lying unconscious on the ground. A quick glance around revealed that Siegrain was nowhere to be found – probably for the best, because at that moment Roubaul could have murdered him.

"What did he do to you?" he hissed, dropping to his knees beside Wendy. "What did he-?" He reached out to touch her. The back of her shirt was damp, though it had not rained in days – and the fingers he drew back were covered in blood, turned black in the starlight. "WENDY!" She did not stir at his desperate shout.

As he picked her up in his arms and ran for the medical tent, shouting for help at the top of his lungs, he vowed that he would never let her out of his sight again.

* * *

She turned restlessly in the grip of a feverish dream.

 _Atop the hill sits a great dragon, but as she runs to meet her, stumbling and tripping and pushing on regardless (don't leave me) she finds that the noble silhouette is nothing more than a pile of rocks. She picks up the rocks one by one, as if to bring them back to life with her touch (don't leave me!) but they are cold and sharp, and they cut and blister her palms until a boy takes her hands in his and it's okay to stop, because she's not alone any more._

 _And for a time she is happy but she knows in her heart it is only a matter of time before he says those fateful, hated, horrible words-_

" _We'll meet again."_

 _(Don't leave me!)_

 _-and she's on her own again, chasing his shadow so deep into the darkness that she can no longer find her way back. She calls to him, knowing he can't hear (DON'T LEAVE ME!)-_

 _-yet this time he stops and turns to face her. He's older now, and different, but he protects her just like he always did. He reaches out to her and when she is too afraid to take his hand, afraid that he too is just a trick of the light or a vision from her memory, he says, brusque and more than a little impatient-_

" _Well, Wendy? Are you coming or not?"_

And for the rest of the night she slept peacefully, safe in the knowledge that there was someone watching over her; a promise that she would never have to be alone again.

* * *

"Wendy!"

She opened her eyes as that familiar voice cut through the haze of her half-awake world. "Master Roubaul?" she murmured. Her mouth was dry and she stumbled over the words, but he was so relieved she was awake that he didn't even notice.

"You're alright! Thank goodness." There was no room for him to fake his usual foolish old man act in his relief – his beloved daughter was back with him and that was all that mattered. He was allowed to act as solemn and relieved as he wanted in such a situation, wasn't he? He handed her a cup of water which she accepted gratefully. "What happened? What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do anything!" Wendy protested, defiance in her weak voice as she jumped immediately to defend her friend, just like she always did. "It was my fault. I… I was careless, that's all…"

"Wendy, you don't get wounds like that just from being careless."

She tried to shake her head, but when it sent waves of dizziness through her she gave it up in favour of a less vigorous denial. "We went after this bad guy, but he got away. Siegrain told me to stay and hide while he chased after him, so I did, but… When he was gone, our enemy came back and attacked me. It was my fault. I should have sensed him approaching, but I wasn't paying attention because I thought Siegrain was taking care of it…"

Roubaul clenched his fist. "So he left you on your own in the middle of enemy territory and you got hurt. And then what? He just abandoned you in the guild?"

"No! He'd never do something like that! I…" She glanced away, ashamed. "I told him that I wasn't hurt badly and I was okay to carry on. We were in the middle of a mission and I didn't want to hold him back, or make him abandon the job because of me… So we arrested the rest of the dark mages and then we walked back to the guild and… I don't really remember anything else…"

"Wendy, you collapsed on the ground outside the guild. If I hadn't found you in time, you might have bled to death!"

"I…"

"Your life is more important than any mission, Wendy! And if that man cared about you at all, he'd agree with me!"

"He does care! I just didn't want… to let him down…"

The old Guild Master folded his arms firmly across his chest. "No. If he cared, he wouldn't put you in such dangerous situations. It is absolutely not acceptable for him to take a child along to fight against dark guilds."

"But it's not normally dangerous!" she retorted, so honest and earnest and faithful to her friend that every word was like a knife driven into his heart. "I know he says that he won't come and save me if I get in trouble, but he doesn't mean it. He always comes running straight away if I'm in danger."

"There shouldn't _be_ any danger. You're nine years old. You should not be fighting at that age."

She stuck her bottom lip out sulkily. "He doesn't let me fight."

"He doesn't?" Well, that was something, he supposed – not that it made the situation any more acceptable.

"Nope. I asked him to teach me but he said there wasn't much point until I got bigger. He's helping me learn support magic though, and I'm getting much better at it. I was really useful last time! He said so!"

"Look, Wendy. I think he'd get on just fine without you, so there's no need to put yourself in harm's way for his sake-"

Emphatically, she shook her head once again. She was feeling better now; her voice grew stronger. "He'd be in big trouble without me," she told him sagely. "Did I tell you about the time we fought a dragon?"

"You- _what?_ "

"It was a big brown one, like a massive snake with wings! It said it was going to eat us and Siegrain wanted to run away. But I wasn't scared! I walked right up to the dragon and punched it on the nose."

"You did _what?_ "

"I hit it! And it went poof."

"Poof?"

"Yup. It vanished. It was just an illusion, see? And not even a good one. I could tell straight away it wasn't a real dragon because I've met dragons and their magic feels different to human magic, but that one felt like human magic, since a human had cast the illusion spell. But Siegrain had no idea, and he was really scared. It was really funny."

She didn't seem to notice that Roubaul wasn't laughing. Happily oblivious to the ominous look of worry that had come over him, or to how her stories weren't alleviating his alarm one bit, she carried on. "What about the time that we went to Crocus? Did I tell you that one?"

He tried to smile, for her sake. "No. I didn't know you'd been to Crocus."

"It was _amazing_. Everything was so big! There were so many houses and so many people! You could put the entire of our guild into just one street! Though we didn't get to look around very much because we had a job to do and Siegrain said we couldn't waste time sightseeing."

"I bet he did."

"But we did get to go inside one of the massive houses. There was this old woman who'd bought this ancient empty house and when she was reno- rena- ren- uh, making it look prettier inside, she found a secret door inside a fireplace which led down to the basement, where there was a locked door with strange writing on it. So she told the Council and they sent us to go and investigate it. Siegrain said it was a sort of puzzle. You had to press the carvings in the right order to open the door, but if you got it wrong, it would set off the trap and destroy whatever it was the door was protecting. Siegrain tried to decipher the writing while I played with Lisa-"

"Lisa? Who's that?"

"The granddaughter of the old woman who lived in the house," Wendy answered. "She's really nice. But anyway, Siegrain was having trouble so he went to the library to look something up, so I thought I'd open the door for him to surprise him when he got back."

"And did you?"

"Yup! It was _really_ easy. I had no idea what any of the runes said but they were all connected up with magic. The right one to push felt sweet, while the others had a sort of spicy sense to them, you know? So I just kept finding and pushing the sweet one until the door opened."

At this point she stopped and glanced somewhat apologetically at Roubaul, as if she knew that she shouldn't have done what she did - but Wendy was not the kind of child who would lie and pretend it had never happened in order to get out of trouble. "I thought we should wait for Siegrain to get back, but Lisa wanted to go in, and I couldn't let her go in on her own, in case there were monsters in there. Turns out, there weren't any monsters. There were skeletons though. Two of them. And lots of treasure. Though the treasure was kind of boring, because none of it was magical – except for a big sapphire, which shone with a kind of magic I'd never seen before. I thought Siegrain would like it, so I picked it up, and, uh…"

"And?"

"It, umm, kind of made the skeletons come alive and start attacking us," Wendy mumbled. "Me and Lisa ran to get help. I thought they'd stop once we got out of the basement but they chased us all the way down the road and into the library. Boy, was Siegrain surprised to see us… It all worked out in the end, though. He destroyed one of them with magic and me and Lisa pushed a bookshelf over on top of the other one and it fell apart. The bookshelf as well as the skeleton, that is. Apparently we shouldn't have done that. It just got Siegrain into more trouble with the librarian. He wasn't very happy with me, though that was mostly because he said everything could have been avoided if I'd just told him how to open the door in the first place."

"It could also have been avoided if he hadn't dragged you to the capital city and then abandoned you with some strangers while he went off reading books," Roubaul muttered.

"I had fun," Wendy shrugged. "Lisa was nice and I'd never been to such a big city before. I thought Era was ginormous but even that's nothing compared to Crocus. We go to Era quite a lot, see," she explained proudly. "That's where Siegrain lives with the Council. He has this flat which he always complains is small but it's _way_ bigger than my tent, and in the flat below that there's this lovely woman called Mrs Mollins who always invites us in for tea and scones. She tells us stories about her son who's on the Council. Siegrain says it's important to listen to that sort of thing, but I think it's boring. It's much more fun when he tells her the stories of our adventures. My favourite story is the one where I nearly got eaten by the giant lizard. Did I tell you that one? We were in the forest and…"

She chatted away blissfully, unaware that her audience of one was no longer listening. It was wonderful to see her so lively again. The past few days spent watching over her limp body, not knowing if she would ever wake up again, had been torture. Seeing her so animated should have made him happy, but his joy was tempered by the knowledge that the source of her excitement was also the cause of her injuries; his pain. It bothered him, how quickly she had brushed off her near-death encounter; how she had blamed herself rather than that devious man.

Was it just that he was jealous? Jealous that at the side of the man from the Council she was getting to go out into the world and experience all the things that she could never see if she stayed with him in the guild? Jealous that Siegrain could bring her the happiness that he, condemned to a cursed half-existence, could not? With a deep feeling of guilt, he had to acknowledge that yes, he was jealous of Siegrain, and mostly it was because he didn't want to give his precious daughter away to anyone else.

But it wasn't just something petty like that – so he told himself fiercely. What Siegrain was doing was dangerous, and he should not be involving Wendy. If there was anything that her stories had confirmed to him, it was that he was utterly irresponsible. He dragged her along on missions and left her alone without any consideration for her safety. He had no interest in actually doing anything for her; he just wanted her for her magic and had no intention of giving her anything in return – not even a chance to spend time with him as friends rather than teammates, doing something that wasn't a perilous mission. Some friend he was. And Wendy, who idolized him, couldn't see that she was just being used.

"Wendy," he said, suddenly.

He was still in his serious mode. She stopped talking immediately, halfway through the story of how Siegrain had heroically saved her from the giant lizard – never mind the fact that she wouldn't have _needed_ saving from the giant lizard if he hadn't been using her as bait to lure said monster out of its lair – and turned to her Guild Master with a quizzical look in her eyes. "Yes?"

"I don't want you to go out with Siegrain any more."

"Why not?" she immediately replied. It wasn't an angry retort, but that didn't matter – a few months ago, before all this had started, she wouldn't have challenged him at all.

"Because it's too dangerous."

She gave a comical, childish sigh. "I keep telling you, it's not dangerous."

"No, Wendy, listen to me." He gave her the most severe look he could muster. "You almost died the other day. If I hadn't found you when I did…" He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm worried about you. You're far too young for this kind of thing – not to mention, Siegrain is careless and irresponsible and you seem to have no sense of self-preservation."

"I…"

"Every time you leave with him, I worry. Can you imagine what it is like for me, waiting here, not knowing when or even if you're going to come back?"

"I know," she told him sadly. "I do know. But… I can't _not_ go either. You're right, he _is_ careless. And that's exactly why he needs me there. Otherwise I'd just be waiting here too, not knowing when I'll see him again or even if he's still alive, and I don't want to feel like that either. I'd rather be there helping, so that I _know_ he's going to come back safely and we'll be able to go on another mission again soon."

Her innocent honesty hit far too close to home. He felt a strange mix of emotions he hadn't felt in years: sorrow, loneliness, raw anger. His voice came out far harsher than he had intended. "Wendy! He doesn't need you at all! Can't you see that he's just using you? He couldn't care less about you – he only wants your power! The moment you stop being useful to him, he'll abandon you and you'll never see him again!"

"No! That's not true! He's my friend!"

"That is _not_ how friends behave towards each other, Wendy! They don't put each other in danger-"

"So what if it's dangerous?" she yelled suddenly. "I'm a guild mage! I want to go out on adventures and I want to help people! Me and Siegrain have saved loads of people and caught a bunch of bad guys and we're actually helping the Council and making a difference! What can I do here? Nothing! All you ever do is stay in the village! How can you call yourself a mage? I'd be far prouder to work for the Council than for Cait Shelter!"

The old man recoiled in shock and betrayal, completely speechless. He feared neither weapons nor magic, yet the words of this girl whom he loved more than life itself tore through him a hundred times more effectively than either.

Wendy must have seen the hurt on his face, because her eyes widened slightly and she flinched away from him. "I didn't mean that… I'm sorry…"

"Is that… really what you think of this guild?" he asked her, in a haunted whisper.

She averted her eyes in shame. "No," she said, and her voice trembled. "I love this guild. I really do. I just… I'm sorry… I didn't mean it… I really didn't…" When she dared to look back at him, her eyes were full of tears. "Are you… going to make me leave the guild now?"

"Of course not!" He had never meant to make her cry. Chastized by his beloved daughter's tears, he swept her up in his arms and held her tightly. "This is your guild, Wendy, and it will remain so for as long as you want it to be."

"I don't ever want to leave," she sobbed into the feathers around his neck. "Even if I go away for a bit, I'll always come back home. And I'll be more careful from now on, if it means you won't worry as much."

Nothing would ever stop him from worrying about her, but he supposed that was just the curse of being a parent. "Okay. Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

Master Roubaul decreed that Wendy had to remain in bed for three weeks to recover. She managed about three days before her irrepressible liveliness overwhelmed her desire to behave, and she sneaked out of the medical tent to go foraging for summer berries with some of the other members of her guild. Watching her from afar, he was forced to conclude that the stamina of a child was a formidable thing indeed.

After a couple of days spent carefully observing her ventures out, he officially discharged her from the medical tent and she returned to normal life in the village. Their argument was quickly forgotten; for a week, and then a fortnight, everything was well again in Cait Shelter.

Then, exactly a month after Roubaul had first found Wendy collapsed in the guild, Siegrain came by once more.

* * *

As usual, Siegrain hadn't taken more than two or three steps onto Cait Shelter property before he was intercepted by its Guild Master. It was uncanny how quickly Roubaul knew he had arrived. That man's senses were inhuman. He had to wonder if he and Mrs Mollins were related somehow.

The two of them regarded each other in silence. Siegrain was under no illusions as to what the gruff old man thought of him – although the undisguised anger in Roubaul's eyes was new. He usually at least pretended to be polite, as would have been expected from a Guild Master to an agent of the Council. Had something happened?

Ah well. Not that he cared. "Where's Wendy?" he asked, by way of greeting.

"Out," came the flat response. At Siegrain's raised eyebrows, he was forced to clarify, "She's helping out with the laundry down by the river. She could be some time."

"I'll wait," Siegrain shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets, as if completely unfazed by the hostile looks coming his way from everyone in the guild.

"No, you won't."

"Oh?" There was a mocking lilt to the young man's tone, encouraging – no, daring! – the Guild Master to continue.

"You will leave the guild right now. I will not allow you to take Wendy away any more."

Far from intimidating him, Roubaul's forceful declaration only increased Siegrain's curiosity. "What brought this on, all of a sudden?" he asked lightly.

The old man rounded on him furiously. "Because you're going to get her killed! Last time, you left her unconscious and bleeding to death outside the guild – if I hadn't found her when I did, she would have died!" Siegrain was uncharacteristically silent, prompting him to demand, "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I didn't know," he said, quietly; a slight edge of anger to his tone. "She said she was fine. If she'd told me she was injured, I'd have taken her straight to a hospital."

"You're supposed to be the responsible adult here! You're supposed to be looking out for her!"

"I told you, I didn't know!"

His admission only seemed to anger Wendy's guardian further. "There's no way you could have failed to notice if you cared at all about her welfare! She's just a tool to you, isn't she? She adores you, and you're using her! I will not allow her to leave the guild with you any more, and that is final."

For a long time, the only sound was that of the lonely wind whistling between the tents. Siegrain neither denied the accusations nor rose to the bait. He simply stared out across the village, his face a mask. When he spoke again, his voice was completely void of warmth. "I can't let you do that. I need her."

"I am her Guild Master and her legal guardian; I have absolute jurisdiction in this matter. Not even the Council itself can overturn my decision."

Siegrain could detect the faint satisfaction in the other's voice, and had to fight to suppress a smile. Roubaul already thought he had won. How the old man underestimated him. He was not letting Wendy go without a fight, and this battle was only just beginning.

Calmly, he turned away from the other, and let out a long, deep sigh. "If you forbid Wendy from leaving with me, she will be very upset indeed."

"Do you think I don't know that?" That harsh, bitter snap told Siegrain all he needed to know, and more. "I know she'll be upset. She might never forgive me. But it's more important to me that she's safe and alive than out there somewhere risking everything for someone who doesn't give two hoots whether she lives or dies, let alone if she's happy or not!" Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he reiterated, "Yes, she'll be upset. But she'll get over it, in time. You're _not_ having her."

"You're right," Siegrain mused. "She'll be upset for a while, and then she'll get over it. She'll be fine. But I wonder if she'll be able to recover quite so easily once she learns that everyone she's ever loved in this guild is an illusion."

All the colour drained from Roubaul's face. This time, Siegrain could not stop himself from laughing out loud. "I am right, aren't I? I have no idea how you've managed to pull off something of this scale, or what magic you're using to do it. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I would have laughed and said it was impossible. Even a whole group of mages working together wouldn't be able to produce so many substantial figures, let alone ones that can mimic independent thought with unique personalities. I am impressed, Master Roubaul."

"How?" he demanded, in a whisper. "How did you work it out? Someone like you shouldn't have been able to see through my magic."

"You're right. I can't pierce it at all. I've had my suspicions for a while, though. I looked your guild up in the Council's database. There are so many anomalies in your record; it's blindingly obvious to anyone who knows what they're looking for that this isn't a real guild… or at least, that it isn't a guild full of real people. Then there's the direct evidence. You are clearly an extremely powerful mage, but even your power can't be infinite. In order to maintain this fictitious guild for Wendy, I imagine you have to cut corners here and there - dismissing the majority of the illusion when she's asleep, for example, or if she's going to be absent from the guild for a long period of time. Or perhaps sometimes you might become so drunk that you can no longer maintain the spell and have to recover your wits and struggle through the worst of a hangover before you can create the whole of Cait Shelter once again."

The old man said nothing, but his silence was all the confirmation Siegrain needed.

"You're so isolated from the real world out here that the chance of any unexpected visitor catching you out is extremely low – or it was until I came along. I drop by at any time of the day; whenever I happen to be in the area, really. Sometimes that's in the middle of the night. Once I had already grown suspicious, it was an easy matter for me to leave with Wendy on one of our jobs and then double back without her a few hours later to find the guild empty. Noticing strange occurrences is part of my job, after all. Then it was simply a matter of filing that information away until I needed it. I did wonder how long it would be before you made me use it, Master Roubaul."

"You…" But he could say no more than that. His hands were balled into fists, shaking impotently at his side.

Something akin to amusement danced in Siegrain's eyes. "Now, I might not be able to break your illusion myself, but Wendy has the most remarkable talent for sensing magic that I have ever seen. I can tell you with certainty that you're fooling her only because she wants to be fooled. You know this as well as I do, don't you? If _anything_ happened to make her doubt that all of this was real… well, your spell would shatter in an instant."

"You can't tell her!" he shouted in desperation. "She's just a child; it would break her!"

"Oh, yes. That's exactly what it would do. But then again, if you won't let her travel with me, I'd have no need to concern myself with her welfare, would I? If I can't have Wendy, then neither can you. Am I making myself clear, Master Roubaul?"

Slowly, bitterly, the elderly Guild Master nodded his head. "You are a despicable man."

"Can't argue with that." He had what he wanted, but he'd been forced to play his trump card in order to obtain it, and sooner than he had expected as well. Still, it had gone as well as, if not better than, he had hoped. Might as well see how far he could push this. He had no objections to kicking a man when he was down. None at all.

So Siegrain smiled slightly, shifted his weight from foot to foot, and said brightly, "And, you know what? Something has just occurred to this despicable man. If I went ahead and told Wendy anyway, then I'd be the only person in the entire world that she could still trust. There would be nothing tying her to this place – nothing at all to stop me from taking her with me all the time. There would certainly be no need for us to have this conversation every single time I came to pick her up, would there?"

"Why can't you just leave us alone? Why can't you just let her be happy?" Roubaul howled in despair. "I said I won't stop you from taking Wendy out on jobs, so what more do you want from me?"

"That's simple. In return for me keeping your secret, I want you to teach me the magic you use to create this guild."

The old man froze. "You wouldn't be able to learn it," he said, a little too quickly.

"Try me. I don't need to be able to use it at anywhere near the level you can. One illusory figure at this level of realism would be plenty. Besides, if you really don't think I can learn it, then you lose nothing by showing me how it works, do you?"

Roubaul glowered at him. "I dread to think what unscrupulous purpose a man like you would use this magic for."

"That's nothing you need to concern yourself with," he replied, with a smile. "And I don't think you're in any position to judge other people. You've used it to create an entirely fictitious world in order to deceive a helpless little girl."

The old man glanced away. "I only wanted her to be happy…" he whispered, in a broken voice. "That's all I ever wanted. But I can't… I just can't give this power to someone like you-"

At that moment, a gleeful shout caused the two of them to jump. "SIEGRAIN!"

Interrupted before they could finish, both of them turned to see Wendy entering the campsite and hurtling across the grass towards her friend. "Hey there, Wendy," Siegrain called. The dark, intimidating persona had been completely banished from his countenance; as always when he spoke to her, he was all smiles.

She screeched to a halt and blinked up at him. "You got taller again," she remarked.

"And you're still a shrimp," he replied, patting her on the head. "Your hair seems to be the only part of you that ever grows. You've gone for twintails today, huh? Looks pretty cute."

"You noticed!" she sang, dancing on the spot in happiness.

He waited for her to calm down before asking, "So, Wendy, are you up for another adventure?"

Under ordinary circumstances, those words would have elicited a predictably overexcited response. To his surprise, however, she only glanced towards the ground, as if ashamed. "Actually, I… I don't think that's a very good idea. Maybe I shouldn't come with you this time."

Siegrain frowned, trying to work out what had caused this sudden change of heart. There could only be one explanation – and his suspicions were confirmed when her next guilty glance was aimed towards her Guild Master.

Without looking at Siegrain, Roubaul walked forward and placed his hands on Wendy's shoulders. "Wendy," he said solemnly. "I want you to do whatever makes you happy. If you want to go, then go."

"You really mean that?" she checked, hesitantly.

"I do."

"And you promise you won't worry too much?"

"Yeah. I won't worry. I'll be fine."

She gave a wonderful smile. "Thank you, Master Roubaul!"

Siegrain watched this exchange dispassionately; thoughtfully. There was a possibility that he was going about this all wrong. For some people, blackmail was the most effective way forwards, but for others…

 _Could_ he? There would be repercussions from the Council later, sure, but he had been their faithful servant for months now; surely he had earned himself some leeway. Besides, there were things more important than his job for the Council. That was only a means to an end, after all.

"So," Wendy asked him chirpily, ignorant of his internal debate. "Where are we going today?"

He made his decision. "Today, Wendy, we are going to the beach."

"The beach?" She looked at him curiously. "Why, what's at the beach?"

He shrugged. "Sun, sea, sand. Fairground attractions. Overpriced ice cream vendors. Donkey rides, maybe? Don't know; I've never been myself."

"Yeah, but…" She blinked up at him curiously. "Is there a buried evil artefact there that we have to find? Or is a dark guild hiding out there?"

"I sure hope not. That'd be guaranteed to ruin the trip."

"But then…" He could see her struggling to understand, and did his best not to laugh. "If there isn't a dark guild there, then why are we going?"

"You mean I need a _reason_ to take you to the beach?"

Wendy stared at him, a slow smile creeping across her face as she finally understood what he was getting at. "We're going on holiday?"

"We sure are. It's just a daytrip to a beach resort, because I can't really afford to take too much time off, but we've worked really hard recently. I think we've earned a fun day out, don't you?"

"Yeah!" she cheered. "Beach! Beach! Beach!" Unable to contain her excitement, she ran little circles around him, laughing wildly the entire time.

Siegrain could feel Roubaul glaring at him suspiciously, but he ignored him, keeping all his attention fixed on the bundle of hyperactivity bouncing around him. "Wendy-!"

Swaying on her feet, she darted into the nearest tent and re-emerged wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat decorated with dried flowers. It was probably supposed to be fashionable, but she was so small that it looked more like a sombrero, constantly slipping down over her eyes. She managed to take two whole steps before tripping in an overly dramatic fashion, turning head over heels and landing flat on her back, with the huge hat covering most of her body.

Siegrain walked over to her with a sigh. He picked up the hat with one hand and she grinned up at him from the ground. "Beach!" she whispered, exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.

"Oh dear," he remarked. "I appear to have broken Wendy."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** And that's my beloved Jellal, right there. Doesn't even need to use magic to be an evil badass. Heh. On the other hand, he did just commit to spending a whole day at the beach with an overexcited child. Forget infiltrating the Council over the span of four years - THIS will be the real test of his patience_… _Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! ~CS_


	8. That Sky Where we Shone so Brightly

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-That Sky Where we Shone so Brightly-**

"Swan boats! SWAN BOATS!"

Without giving Siegrain a chance to respond, Wendy grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the lake in the centre of the resort complex. As he had already discovered that afternoon, there was no force in all Fiore more powerful than a hyperactive child let loose in an amusement park for the very first time. Helpless before her unstoppable enthusiasm, he could do nothing but traipse along behind her, left to wonder exactly how he of all people had ended up in this situation – and how on earth he was going to explain all this to the Council.

It had taken all of about thirty seconds for him to start regretting his spur of the moment decision to take Wendy to the beach. Certainly, that was how long it took for her excitement to start getting on his nerves after they left the guild. Given that it had been a good hour's walk to the nearest station, followed by a lengthy train ride to their destination itself, during which time her enthusiasm had not diminished one bit, he considered the fact that he had managed to go the entire journey without throttling her his greatest achievement to date.

Neither he nor Wendy had ever been to the beach before. Not sure of exactly where to start, he had ended up bringing her to Akane Resort, which he knew simply because it was the closest point on the mainland to the Tower. It seemed to be a popular holiday destination. The resort owned the entire stretch of idyllic sandy beach, but that was just the start. An enormous amusement park backed onto the sea front, complete with giant rollercoasters, an artificial lake for water rides, and attractions to appeal to all ages. There was also an enormous hotel which was undoubtedly out of his budget, along with a casino that he would probably have been able to bluff his way into – he was fully aware that he came across as older than he actually was, a fact that he often used to his advantage – but its tight security would certainly have refused entry to the nine-year-old accompanying him.

Fortunately, there was more than enough in the rest of the resort to capture her attention. First of all, they had visited the beach. At Wendy's request, they built sandcastles and searched for shells in the sand, then when she was bored of that, they bought ice creams and ate them while walking along the shoreline, with the waves lapping gently around their ankles.

Another group of holidaymakers had set up some beach volleyball nets, and although Wendy seemed happy enough just to watch the action with shining eyes, the strangers insisted that the two of them join in for a friendly game. Even without his magic, Siegrain's athletic ability more than made up for Wendy's lack of it, and what the two of them lacked in experience of the game, they more than made up for with teamwork. Their coordination had been honed in the most dangerous of environments - he always knew where she was without having to look, and she understood exactly how to interpret the instructions he shouted to her - and they came out of the round robin tournament completely undefeated. Seeing the looks the other competitors had been shooting him and Wendy after their victory, Siegrain thought it prudent to move swiftly on. He had already resolved that he was going to make an extra special effort not to get into any fights today. It would have defeated the purpose of the holiday, after all.

That had been more than enough messing around for one day in his opinion, so Siegrain was about to head back to the train station when he found his way blocked by an outraged Wendy. It was only mid-afternoon, she lectured him, and there was still _plenty_ of fun to be had in this place. He had promised her a full day out, after all. And so, with dread in his heart, he and Wendy had hit the amusement park.

Neither the exercise nor the hot summer's weather seemed to have made much of a dent in Wendy's liveliness. She dragged him from the dodgems to the carousel to a candy floss stand and then immediately to an old wooden rollercoaster. There wasn't much in the world that scared Siegrain, but he would have sworn that he could feel the rackety old thing falling apart underneath his feet, and he was on edge the entire time – much to Wendy's amusement, who could sense his readiness to call his magic at any moment, and even broke off screaming in delight to ask him cheerfully and loudly in front of everyone if he was scared of heights. Heights were fine; rattling wooden death-traps were another matter entirely.

Fortunately, Wendy's next choice had been the far safer swan-shaped pedal-powered boats on the artificial lake. It was a good job that the Council had started paying him for all the work he was doing, because Wendy had no money and this little trip would have bankrupted him if he had only had the meagre savings he had managed to accumulate outside the Tower to rely upon.

And speaking of the Council – well, it seemed as though they had actually started to trust him a little. He had been expecting someone to jump out and arrest him the moment it became clear that he was not heading to the rendezvous point for the mission, but no one had. In fact, this had surprised him so much that he had checked with Wendy whether or not the man who had been on their tail during every single mission since that very first job was actually following them this time. She informed him that he was, but he was keeping his distance, just as usual. Then she had asked if they should invite him to join them on the beach and make friends with him. With a sigh, he had reminded her of her promise to keep pretending that they didn't know that he was there.

It was unusual, though. Their faceless escort must have known that he was blatantly disobeying orders, yet he was doing nothing about it. Maybe, after serving the Council faithfully for several months without putting so much as a toe out of line, they had started to trust him; to grant him some leniency. That was useful information – _very_ useful. Perhaps this little daytrip had been worth it just to learn that fact.

Not that that was going to make it any easier to explain to the Council why he had ditched the mission and gone to the beach instead. Right now, he was supposed to be aiding a division of Rune Knights in raiding the hideout of the leader of an influential drug-smuggling ring. Instead, he was steering a plastic boat shaped like a swan across a pond, doing his best not to crash into any of the other boats being driven by careless children, while at the same time trying to stop his own overexcited passenger from climbing up the neck of the swan in an attempt to sit on its head for a better view. On reflection, catching the smugglers would have been a whole lot easier.

"Wendy, cut it out," he muttered, foiling her latest attempt to scale the swan by hooking her by the back of her collar and plonking her back into the seat next to him. "The lifeguard is giving us angry looks. Do you want to get us both thrown out?"

She mumbled something unintelligible but this time stayed sat in her seat. Instead, she dipped her hand over the edge of the little boat, letting the water run between her fingers. While still against the rules of the boat hire, at least this time she wasn't threatening to capsize them both, so he let it slide.

He reasoned, "Look, Wendy, if you're bored, we'll go do something else."

She glanced at him, saw that he was serious – and not mad at her – and gave him an apologetic smile. "The boats weren't as fun as I hoped. I like the fast things best."

"Well, why did you pick the boats, then?"

"I thought that if you didn't like the rollercoaster, then you might have liked the boats more, since they're gentle. But I guess not." She was silent for a while, before suddenly adding, "I think maybe we should go home now."

He had been looking forward to hearing those words all day, but for some reason, the feeling of relief he had been expecting never came. She had spoken in such an uncharacteristically sad tone of voice that, rather than jumping on her concession and calling a sudden end to their daytrip, he found himself asking, "Why?"

"Well…" She would not meet his gaze. "You're not having fun, are you?"

Her question took him by surprise. Fun? This day out was something to be endured, not enjoyed. It had nothing to do with what _he_ wanted; it was about doing something for Wendy, to make it up to her for not noticing she had been injured last time, and to win her more firmly onto his side over Roubaul's. He should have known that she was the kind of person who would notice and feel bad if he wasn't enjoying the day out as much as she was.

He supposed that this just wasn't the sort of thing that he found fun. Tracking down and defeating rival dark mages; proving his superiority over them in intellect and in battle – now _that_ was fun. Deceiving the Council, doubly so. Going to an amusement park with a hyperactive nine-year-old? Not so much. He couldn't imagine anyone who would regard that as anything less than a chore. Besides, there was always that nagging feeling at the back of his mind, reminding him that more than keeping Wendy on his side, more even than manipulating the Council, his plan to change the world demanded his full attention. This frolicking around was important – in some sense – but it still carried the frustration of an unnecessary distraction.

That being said, it wasn't as if he was particularly hating this day out either. It was only when he glanced over at Wendy, who was waiting quizzically for his answer, that he realized why that was.

She had such a sense of wonder. Everything here was new to her; everything she saw amazed her. He didn't think it was possible for human beings to express such blissful happiness, and yet he appeared to be on a day out with a girl who was cheerfulness incarnate. Every time he thought they had reached the bottom of her well of enthusiasm, something new caught her attention, setting her off on another wave of excitement.

The real world was a cruel place. That wasn't just a warped view he held from his own personal experience in the Tower – he had seen more of the darker side of humanity in the few months he had been doing the Council's dirty work than he ever had in his five years as Master of the Tower. He had thought Wendy unique: an oasis of naïve, childish excitement; an anomaly in this harsh world. In that, he had been the naïve one. The wonder he found within her was reflected on the faces of all the children dragging their hapless parents around the amusement park. That same willingness to believe the best in people could be found in the friendly strangers who had invited them to join in their volleyball game, or even in his handler from the Council, who had apparently decided to let them enjoy their day off rather than immediately turning him in for neglecting his duties.

There was a world of difference between Wendy's childhood and his. He had always known that, but perhaps this was the first time that he had started to appreciate what it really meant. Growing up a slave of the Tower had denied him any chance at this happiness; had stripped him of the innocence and wonder prerequisite to finding unconditional beauty in the world. It was simply incomprehensible to him. Her actions, and her love for everyone and everything around her, were utterly irrational to anyone with an ounce of common sense.

One day Wendy would wake up to see the truth about the world, about _him_ , and it would break her; shatter her dreams; tear her apart… it was so pathetic, it made him want to laugh. It was a cruel world indeed that gave its children such hope, only to snatch it away from them. It didn't change what he would do. If anything, it only strengthened his resolve; this was yet another sin for which he would make this hateful world pay.

And yet she was so sure of her feelings! She didn't have even a shred of doubt; it never once occurred to her that things might not be quite as wonderful as they seemed. In fact, so strong was her conviction that _he_ was the one who wondered. There was a lot of hatred in this world, but there was also a lot of happiness. It was so illogical that it was somehow precious.

And perhaps that was why his response to Wendy's question was to glance away, feigning a look of embarrassment. "I'm just worried, that's all," he muttered.

"About what?"

"About the fact that it cost me a small fortune to get us in to this resort, and I was worried that you were getting bored and going to make me leave before I'd got my money's worth."

She blinked at him, trying to untangle the meaning in his words, and then her concerned face resumed its usual broad grin. "Never! There's still _loads_ of stuff we haven't done yet!"

"Glad to hear it. So, you tell me what you want to do, and we'll go do it."

She replied without hesitation. "I want to watch the sunset from the beach!"

"…Okay, sure, but we've got at least an hour before the sun goes down, so do you have any more practical suggestions we can do before then?"

Wendy jumped to her feet in a dramatic motion that almost sent both of them overboard. "I want to go on that!" she declared, pointing towards a tower at the far end of the lake.

It was by far the tallest structure in the whole resort complex, beating the hotel and even the rollercoasters. It was difficult to tell from this distance exactly what it was, but as he studied it intently for a moment or two, his sharp hearing registered the distinctive whoosh of pressurized air followed by faint shrieks of exhilaration, and he thought he was beginning to get the idea. Riders were launched up the side of the tower by compressed air magic, by the looks of things, before plunging back down in freefall. The idea itself wasn't that unusual – it was the kind of attraction he guessed was popular with thrill-seekers, and not with anyone else. The curious part was why Wendy had picked it.

"Why that one?"

"Because it's the highest ride here!"

"It's certainly very tall," he conceded, though that didn't really answer his question. He prodded her some more. "Surely it's too high for a shrimp like you. Won't you be scared?"

She laughed. "No! Course not! Are you sure _you're_ not the scared one?"

"I told you, it's not heights that I have a problem with," he muttered grumpily. "That runaway train ride was so poorly built that it could have gone off the rails at any moment and dragged us down with it. That drop tower, on the other hand, is completely powered and controlled by air magic. It's a hundred times safer. And besides, you didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"I'll rephrase it. Why do you want to go on the tallest ride here?"

"Because…" He was fully expecting her to come out with some stupid reason and was already regretting pressing the matter when she glanced out over the lake, an expression of sadness clouding her eyes. Now that was not an emotion he had seen her display very often. "Because my mother used to fly everywhere."

"Your mother could fly, huh?"

"Obviously," she said, though he couldn't see for the life of him why that was supposed to be obvious. "I was so jealous, but she said it was too dangerous for me to come too, in case I fell. I kept asking her until one day she finally gave in and let me ride on her back. It was the best day _ever_. We went so high! And so fast! I didn't ever want to come down, you know? It was the most amazing thing. She promised she'd take me again some time, but then she…"

Her voice tailed off into silence, as memories she didn't want to remember resurfaced in her mind – loneliness, abandonment, betrayal. He didn't know what to say, so he just waited for her to finish. Eventually she turned back to him, and her eyes were shining like usual. "I want to get close to that sky again. I thought that maybe, if I went on the tallest ride here, then…"

"I think you're going to be quite disappointed," he told her calmly. "You do realize that thing only goes up and down, right?"

She could tell when he was teasing her; she pulled a face at him. "You're the one who said we could do anything that I wanted."

"Fine, fine. We'll do it." He had already started to steer the swan boat back towards the dock. This time, Wendy was a lot more patient, and she remained seating with her usual obedience until they were safely back on dry land. She hopped out while he helped a member of staff moor the boat up, and then the two of them wandered round the lake to the drop tower attraction.

It was early evening. The steadily descending sun bathed the environment in a fiery orange light. The amusement park would probably close soon; most people were already beginning to leave. In the time it had taken them to get there, this area of the resort had quietened considerably. The tower hadn't launched again since they had seen it go up from the middle of the lake.

Frowning, Siegrain led Wendy through the empty queueing area – only to be stopped by the attendant who called out to them. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're closed."

He came to a stop with Wendy at his side, sizing up the man blocking his way through narrowed, hostile eyes. "What do you mean, closed?" At the attendant's deliberately unhelpful shrug, Siegrain made a show of glancing over his shoulder to the large clock tower overlooking the entire resort. "The park doesn't close for another fifteen minutes."

"There was no one around, so we closed up early. No point keeping the attractions running if there's no demand. Sorry if you missed out. Next time, come by sooner," he added, without a trace of apology.

Was that a challenge? If so, the attendant was going to regret that. He was only a young man, probably a year or two older than Siegrain at most, and a few inches taller, though that meant nothing when one of them was a ride operator and the other hunted dark guilds for a living.

"So," he said, gesturing towards Wendy, "She's going to miss out because you decided you wanted to go home early?"

"We always close down in these situations. It's an environmental thing, you see. Keeping it on standby with no guests just drains power and resources."

"No, it doesn't." His sharp eyes danced angrily from the loading station, where two other attendants were casting threatening looks in his direction, back to the man in front of him. "It's a self-igniting lacrima activation key; anyone can see that. It makes literally no difference whether it's on standby or shut down completely."

"Oh, is that so? We'll be sure to bring that up at the next staff meeting. Unfortunately, it doesn't change the fact that we're closed, so goodbye. If you want someone else to bother, the donkey rides along the beach run for an extra half an hour after the amusement park closes."

"It's fine," a small voice spoke up. Wendy gripped Siegrain's arm tightly in an attempt to drag him towards the exit. He didn't move on inch. "It's fine," she repeated, pleading. "So, let's go, okay?"

"No. It's not fine." Siegrain closed his eyes for a long moment, and when he opened them again, it seemed that the temperature of the air around them had dropped several degrees. "Reopen it," he said. It was not a request.

But before the man could respond, Wendy suddenly yelled at the top of her lungs, "I WANNA RIDE A DONKEY!"

The moment of tension was broken. Completely taken aback, Siegrain blinked at her numbly. She placed her hands on her hips, stamped her foot on the ground, and shot him the most alarming pout he had ever seen. "Take me to the donkeys!" she demanded. "NOW!"

"Well…" he mumbled. It wasn't as if he couldn't see what she was doing. Wendy had never thrown a temper tantrum in her entire life; even as a child, she had been well above that kind of pettiness. This was her entry into the battlefield – her own tactical move. She was offering him a way out of the situation without losing face before it could escalate further.

And it seemed she wanted to avoid a conflict more than he wanted to start one. She was willing to sacrifice all her dignity for it. Rather than giving him a chance to refuse her, she turned around and walked off with the haughtiness of a spoilt princess.

Well. Someone sure was getting good at this game. Rather than anger or resentment, what he felt in that moment was pride. And as soon as he acknowledged that feeling, he knew he had lost. Sighing, he turned his back on the staff members and hurried after Wendy.

Only once they were out of sight of the men did she drop the act and begin walking normally; shyly. When he caught up with her, she didn't say anything, or even look at him. She just grabbed his hand in her own without a word – a humble apology – and led him towards the beach.

"Wendy," he said, softly; kindly. No one was more amazed than he at the absence of any annoyance in his tone. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Yup!" Now she turned to him and gave him her usual great radiant smile. "I realized you were right. It was just going to be disappointing after all. Besides, I've flown before. I've _never_ ridden a donkey before. That'll be much more exciting. I wonder how fast a donkey can run. Maybe they'll let us have a race…"

Her words dissolved into happy chatter, oblivious to the fact that he was no longer listening. He had stopped in his tracks. No, that wasn't her normal smile. It was merely an echo of it; a performance put on for his sake. When had he become able to notice something like that?

Finally realizing that he was no longer with her, she turned to see where he had got to. For a brief moment, her eyes fell on the tower over his shoulder, and the light in her eyes dimmed ever so slightly. Then her gaze met his and immediately became bright and enquiring once again. The moment of sadness had passed so quickly that he could have imagined it.

But he hadn't. He had come to know her too well, even against his will.

 _I don't want our day to end like this._

That thought came out of nowhere, and he didn't know what to make of it.

This situation just wasn't right. Even on missions, no matter how tough or dangerous things got, Wendy was always cheerful, simply because they were alive and they were together. And yet here, on this day out that was supposed to be for her, she was going to leave disappointed and upset. How pathetic was he, to not even be able to make this girl happy?

 _I want to do something for her._

In that instant, when he wanted to see her smile just like she always did, an idea came to him.

"Siegrain?" she asked, perplexed by his behaviour.

Could he do it? He wasn't sure. He had never used his magic in such a way before. Even if he could get it to work in such a continual manner, there was no telling how long he'd be able to do it for, or what the cost might be to his body. Wondering, he reached hesitantly for his power, only to feel his heart lurch in his chest.

Eyes widening slightly, he immediately revised his earlier opinion: he could definitely do this. His heart was pounding; his magic surged through his body without him needing to actively call it, entwined with him, closer and stronger than ever before. It responded to that single overwhelming thought – that desire to do something for someone else, simply for the sake of seeing them smile.

 _We can do this._

Words echoing back to him from somewhere deep within himself, yet he had not been the one who had thought them. His magic wanted to try. He knew this without knowing _how_ he knew it. And he wanted to try it too.

He could hardly breathe from the intensity of that feeling, yet somehow his voice was calm. "Wendy. Do you really want to fly?"

"Well…" She knew he could tell when she was lying to him, so she just shrugged. "Yeah, I do. But I'm sure I'll get loads more chances in the future, so-"

He crouched down beside her so suddenly that she was startled into stopping halfway through her sentence. "Get on my back."

"A piggyback ride? No offence, but I think riding a donkey will be more fun…"

"Wendy," he said sternly, refusing to allow her to ruin the moment. As always when he used that tone of voice, she scrambled to obey, and clung on to him firmly as he stood up again. "Hold on tightly," he instructed, and he felt her slim arms tighten slightly around his neck in response. "Good. Now, if you want me to stop, just tap my shoulder twice."

"Like this?"

"Yeah. Okay." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He closed his eyes but there was not a moment of darkness. Before he could call his magic it was already there, its golden warmth as much a part of his physical existence as his body was. This time, it needed no urging, no forcing. He and it were no longer distinct entities; their desires resonated as one.

In the next instant they were gone as his magic launched them towards the sky in a blaze of golden light. The rush of speed stole their breath away. They were almost at the top of the tower already-

And as soon as he realized that, he felt a touch of fear – they were so far from the ground; such a long way from the safety of any surfaces. With the first onset of doubt, his magic began to fail. Their breakneck ascent slowed, paused, and gradually began to reverse.

But even though they fell towards the ground, Wendy's grip around him didn't tighten, nor did she panic. Her trust in him was absolute. He smiled in the face of the rushing wind, and determination sparked in his eyes.

His magic was supposed to be used to increase his speed in short bursts, bouncing from surface to surface, not in such a sustained manner. Or was it? Just because that was how he had always used it didn't mean that was how _it_ wanted to be used. Perhaps all he had needed was the patience to listen to the form it wanted to take – and the courage to try something different.

"I didn't ever want to come down," Wendy had said, and he understood now exactly how she had felt.

 _We don't ever have to touch the ground if we don't want to, you and I._

Power burst to life within him and he broke free from the pull of gravity. Seizing control of their fall, he turned it into an enormous sweeping arc; they were still a good ten metres above the ground when their motion became horizontal and then they were shooting skyward once more.

Now they were flying properly. The drop tower was right in front of them, but he was completely in control. He didn't need a surface to use to change his direction when he could do it with magic simply by exerting his will, as instinctively as running or breathing. They turned tight loops around the tower in a rising spiral, his eyes shining with fierce pride, and his magic, set free, blazing brighter than ever.

His foot found purchase on the very top of the steel structure and he used it to launch them onwards with another boost of speed. Now they were higher than the tallest structure in the resort, and he was not about to stop there, not when the whole sky was theirs. They swooped and curved through the air, utterly free, turning great wide circles faster and faster, so far above the ground that the people were indistinguishable blobs of colour, unimportant below the endless, endless sky.

Wendy let out a whoop of joy and, much to his surprise, so did he. He pushed them faster, testing the limits of his magic in this form, turning an enormous loop-the-loop in the vast sky, while Wendy clung on to him for dear life, giggling madly all the while. He cut off the power and they dived like a bird of prey, gathering speed as they hurtled towards the ground. The wind whipped away her exhilarated shout. There wasn't a moment when he wasn't in control, and she knew it; before long, they were racing back towards the clouds with unbelievable speed.

Only then did her arms tighten around him, and she whispered into his ear, "Thank you." The wind took her words before he could hear them, but he understood, and he found himself smiling.

For the first time, he could accept her feelings without guilt, in that sky where the two of them shone so brightly.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Doing my best to find that fine line between a chapter that's really clichéd, really sweet, and really quite weird if you think about it too much. Aww, but Jellal's so sweet though... ~CS_


	9. Her Wish, and Mine

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Her Wish, and Mine-**

Siegrain lay on his back in the sand. His eyes were closed. He basked in the light of the late afternoon sun, listening to the sound of the waves breaking against the shore and the children playing in the distance.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was utterly content. Although he had returned to the ground now, the memory of what he had accomplished with his magic burned like a spark of triumph within him which not even exhaustion could douse. He had done something that he had thought was impossible – he had flown, actually _flown_ , and he had been able to do something for Wendy in return for everything she had done for him.

No, he had not been intending to 'have fun' on this trip, as Wendy had put it, but it might have happened all the same. Surely there was no other explanation for this feeling of elation; of peace. He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to go back to the Council, or even back to the Tower. He just wanted to stay on that beach forever.

And he might not have a choice, if Wendy had anything to say about it. While he was relaxing, she appeared to be packing sand around one of his legs and humming to herself all the while.

He opened his eyes a fraction in order to see her. "Wendy, what are you doing?"

"Burying you alive," came her cheerful response.

"…Right. Well, would you mind not doing that? You're getting sand in my shoe."

"Oh. Sorry." She seemed a little disappointed at this, but she did at least stop her attempt to encase his legs in sand.

He sat up and tried to move his leg, only to find that he couldn't. "Seriously, Wendy, what did you mix with that sand? Cement?"

Her only response was a broad grin. He sighed, lying back down. Well, it wasn't as if he particularly wanted to go anywhere anyway. Wendy flopped across his chest with a light thump. "How long are you going to sleep for?" she complained.

"I'm not asleep. And if you're bored, go play in the sea or something."

"It's no fun without you."

"Well, I need to lie down for a bit."

"Because you used a lot of magic?"

"Because I used almost all my magic. Turns out flying freely like that consumes a lot more power than I thought. I'll have to work on that before I try something like this again."

"So, you mean that you _will_ do that again?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure. Any time you want. Though maybe we'll pick somewhere without so many people around next time."

After all, that impromptu display of magical prowess had been performed in front of the entire resort complex. If it wasn't for the fact that he was obviously an abnormally powerful mage, the resort's security guards would almost certainly have tried to escort them from the premises already. As it was, since he was no longer causing a disturbance, they seemed to have prudently decided to let the two of them be. Most other beachgoers were giving him and Wendy a wide berth anyway.

It wasn't as if he cared what strangers thought of him, of course. No, it was more the fact that he was going to be in enough trouble with the Council for being at the beach without drawing unwanted attention to himself and his employers as well.

Wendy gave a contented sigh. "Today has been the best day _ever_."

He couldn't help laughing. "I thought you said that the day when you went flying with your mother was the best day ever."

"That's now the second-best day," she informed him matter-of-factly. "Because I got to go to the beach as well today. And also, you're my best friend."

"Am I now? I'm honoured."

"Only, don't tell Jellal. Because he used to be my best friend, so I don't want him to be sad…"

"I don't think he'll mind," Siegrain told her, amused. When Wendy still didn't look happy, he added, "Well, you know, he hasn't seen you for a while, so I'm sure he'll understand."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Also, would you mind getting off me?"

"Sorry!" She sat up, causing him to wince as her elbow dug into his stomach, and then she was safely sat on the sand next to him. She surveyed the rest of the beach, taking in the warm sand, the playing children, and the orange-gold sunlight shimmering atop the gently lapping waves. "It's a shame we never got to do a donkey ride. I think you were more fun in the end, though."

"Glad to hear I rank above donkeys in your estimation."

Missing the slightly disgruntled sarcasm of his statement, the girl was quiet for a long time. Ever since they had started travelling together, Siegrain had come to appreciate moments of silence like this. They were a rare reprieve from her normal endless chatter – although they usually meant that there was something on her mind. He wondered what was bothering her. Then he wondered whether that thought had come from curiosity or compassion. It was getting surprisingly difficult to tell where the line was.

"Siegrain?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me that you'll never hurt anyone because of me."

He looked at her in surprise. "Where did that come from, all of a sudden?"

"Well…" She glanced away, and he knew immediately what it was that she was going to say. "Earlier, when the ride was shut… you were going to threaten that man until he opened it again, weren't you?"

"No, I wasn't," he lied.

"You were too." She gave him an utterly unimpressed look. "You were using your threatening face."

"What are you talking about?" he replied, bemused. "I don't have a threatening face."

"Sure you do. It's like…" As he watched with increasing perplexity, she pulled the most over-exaggerated pout possible. Her eyes narrowed to slits; her eyebrows knitted together dramatically. The overall effect would have been hilarious, if it wasn't supposed to be him she was doing an impression of.

"I do _not_ look like that," he objected, highly offended.

Her face relapsed into its usual broad grin. "You do too!"

"Well then, you must look like this." He puffed out his cheeks and bulged his eyes, setting Wendy off into a fit of hysterical giggling. Despite himself, he couldn't help grinning at her reaction. She was just too cute when she was trying and failing to tell him off in between bouts of helpless laughter.

"Stop being silly," she lectured him, doing her best attempt at a stern expression. "You didn't answer my question."

"I wasn't going to threaten him, Wendy. I was just going to boss him around a bit. I'm an agent of the Council now; I can do that. I even have a badge."

She fixed him with a beady-eyed stare, as if trying to judge whether or not he was telling the truth. "Are you really that important?"

"…That's a perfectly valid question, Wendy, but I'd appreciate it if you could ask it without looking so doubtful," he grumbled. "As a matter of fact, I am pretty important."

"Really? What do you actually do for the Council?"

He frowned at her. "Wendy, you _know_ what I do. You're with me half the time I do it."

"I didn't mean that. I meant more… well, what's your actual job? You're not a Rune Knight, right? You don't wear the uniform."

"No, I'm not. I'm an agent – in technical terms, an elite mage in the Council's direct employ."

"Which means what exactly?"

"Well, alright. I'll explain it to you. You know what the Rune Knights do, right?"

"Not really," she replied cheerfully.

"…Okay. Starting from the beginning, then. During times of peace, the Rune Knights are charged with keeping order amongst the mages of the kingdom by enforcing the laws of the magical world. In practice, this ranges from jobs like patrolling the streets and catching criminals to conducting investigations, monitoring the legal mage guilds, and hunting the dark guilds.

"But sometimes there are jobs that are too big for the Rune Knights to handle – if they're tracking a particularly powerful dark guild, for example, or dealing with an unusually strong rogue mage, or even a demon. Or sometimes it might just be the wrong kind of job for the Knights – too remote for the Knights based in Era to travel to easily, or perhaps the criminals will scarper at the sight of Knights, but a mage not obviously affiliated with the Council might be able to get close. In these scenarios, the Council would request the help of the legal mage guilds. The Rune Knights might coordinate with strong mages from the guilds, or just leave it in their hands entirely. That's how most of the difficult tasks are dealt with."

"So what about you?"

"I'm getting to that," he told her crossly. "Sometimes there are jobs which are too big for the Rune Knights to handle, but which also involve sensitive information or forbidden magic. In these cases, the Council can't afford to get the guilds involved, because there are certain things that no one outside the Council can be allowed to know for security purposes, and dangerous dark magic which must never be made public; that sort of thing. Having said that, the usual situation is that the Council screwed up somewhere along the line and don't want to publicly announce their failure by asking the guilds for help. But whatever their motivation, if the job is too difficult for the Knights yet too secretive to get the guilds involved, they get an agent like myself to deal with it. Does that make sense?"

"Yup!"

"Good."

"But what if there's a job too difficult for _you_ to do?"

"There's nothing I can't handle," he retorted, affronted.

"But if there was, though."

He glared at her for a moment before giving in. "Well, if that ever happened, I suppose the Council would get the Wizard Saints involved."

"Who're they?"

"Allegedly, the ten most powerful mages on the continent. Though there's only nine of them at the moment. The Council are in the process of nominating a new one."

"Are you one of them?"

At this he laughed out loud, prompting an utterly confused look from his audience of one. "You're sweet, Wendy, but no, I'm not. I'm nowhere near that level."

"I think you're strong," she said, sticking her bottom lip out sulkily. "You're a lot shinier now than when we first met."

"…Is being shiny a good thing?"

She nodded firmly. "Yup. And you must be powerful, because you're always protecting me. I know how hard you've been training for your Council work too. And then today… I didn't know your magic could do that. It was really cool."

"I didn't know either."

"It's going to be really useful when we're fighting, right?"

"I guess so. I hadn't really thought about it in that way."

As unusual as it seemed, he really hadn't until she mentioned it. It was going to take a lot of practice, that was for sure. Using his magic to fly outright rather than just to increase his speed in sharp bursts consumed a lot more power than he was used to. Efficiency would come with time, though, as he and his magic grew used to this new form, and he knew his power was still growing. Besides, the high energy cost was a small price to pay for how easy it was to use. Once he had it active it was so instinctive that it hardly took any concentration to maintain or control. He figured that if he worked hard for it, there was a good possibility he would be able to use other kinds of magic while in the air. That could completely change how he fought.

She interrupted his inner monologue with a predictably childish question. "Does it have a name?"

"My magic? Don't know. I've never met another person with magic like mine, nor have I encountered descriptions of anything sufficiently similar in the literature to say for sure that it matches. So if it has a name, I don't know what it is."

"That's kind of sad."

"Is it?" He shrugged. He had stopped trying to understand the ins and outs of that girl's mind a long time ago. A thought occurred to him then, and he asked on impulse, "Just out of curiosity, Wendy, what does my magic look like to you?"

She blinked at him in silence, not really understanding the question.

"You know. When you described the magic of our mysterious follower to me, you said it was blue like a sky without stars or something like that, right?" She nodded once. "What colour's my magic?"

To his surprise, she didn't answer him immediately. She glanced out across the waves in silence. Out there in the distance the sun's golden eye hovered hesitantly above the horizon, as if it too was waiting.

"Wendy?"

"You should name it."

"What?"

"Your magic. You should give it a name. I think it would be happier that way."

He supposed there was some sense in what she was saying. He hadn't ever been taught magic, per se. It was unusual – though not unheard of – for magic to already have a defined form when it manifested within a young mage, and he had been one of those cases, though he would have been the first to admit that it was more likely the product of his abnormal circumstances than any unique ability. With no one to teach him magic, either his own kind or any other, he had picked it up through trial and error. It was a balance between finding what form the magic wanted to take and forcing it into a form that better suited him and his personality and his fighting style; today was perhaps the first time when his own intentions and the will of the magic itself had been completely aligned. There was a lot of potential within his own magic that he simply had not been able to access yet, but perhaps if something like this happened again-

Hang on. Wendy had deliberately sent him off on a tangent. She was avoiding his question.

Interesting. Was it better to push her, or let her be? On one hand, he didn't want to risk jeopardizing the pleasant evening. On the other, he was _very_ curious. Had she ever refused him something he had asked outright before? Only in very extreme circumstances. He couldn't see what was so extreme about what he had asked, and that only made him more intrigued.

"Perhaps I will, but you're avoiding the question, Wendy," he remarked, and was satisfied to see her flinching guiltily away. "What is it that you sense, when you look at me?"

"Well…" She shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze. "There's the magic that I don't really like. I can't really see it because it's hidden… I can only sense it at all because I know what I'm looking for."

"Sure, sure. But what about my normal magic?"

"It's… You are… like… black or white."

"Oh? Like Nirvana?"

She shook her head emphatically. "Nirvana was black _and_ white. Both at once. Your magic is neither. Like it could be either, and just hasn't decided yet."

"Interesting," he said. "Does it bother you?"

After a moment's thought, she shook her head. Then, as if to prove her point, she shuffled a little closer to him, and he ruffled her hair fondly. She smiled, and he smiled too, and they didn't say anything for a while. The sun inched closer to the horizon as the sky came alight with fire, edging towards the sunset that Wendy wanted to watch from the beach.

The stillness was suddenly broken as the girl leaned over and jabbed him sharply in the ribs. "Hey! What was that for?"

"What's going on over there?" She pointed a little way along the beach, to where a man in the uniform of Akane Resort's security officers was moving methodically between the families remaining on the beach, stopping to talk to each of them briefly before walking on.

"Looks to me like they're closing the beach for the night and asking everyone to leave."

Wendy turned to him with a look of abject horror. "You can't close a _beach!_ "

"The resort owns all the land around here, so I suppose technically they can."

"But why would they do that? The sun hasn't even set yet…"

"Probably for legal purposes. It's getting dark and there's no lighting on the beach. If someone walked into a hole that had been dug in the sand and broke their leg, they'd probably sue the resort owners, or something." At her quizzical look, he added, with a slight smile, "Or, you know, maybe the security guards just get a kick out of ruining people's fun."

Wendy pulled a face. "Maybe next time we should go after them rather than the dark guilds."

"Don't tempt me," he said mildly, with raised eyebrows. "Though, that has given me an idea." He rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a small clip case. As Wendy watched, puzzled, he flipped the case open to reveal a shiny official-looking badge in the shape of an ankh nestled amongst black velvet. Inside the case's lid was a formal card identifying the bearer as an agent of the Council. He pressed the case into Wendy's hand, and then indicated the approaching security guard.

"Go and show that to the man. Tell him you're here on Council business and can't leave yet."

"But we're _not_ here on Council business."

"Sure, but _he_ doesn't know that, does he?"

She looked at him dubiously. "What if he asks what our business is?"

"Well, Wendy, if he does that, look him dead in the eye and sternly say these exact words: 'I could tell you that, but then I'd have to kill you.' Go on. It'll be funny."

Still she frowned – and then, all of a sudden, her face lit up with a brilliant idea. That was _never_ a good sign. "I know! I should do your threatening face!"

"No! Don't _ever_ do that!" he ordered. "Unless you're auditioning to join the circus or something, that is…"

"Sure!"

She scrambled to her feet, skidding on the sand in her haste to intercept the security guard. He couldn't hear what she was saying from this distance, but he saw her wave the badge around and then place her hands on her hips in what was probably supposed to be an intimidating gesture. Utterly perplexed by the scenario, the security guard glanced over her shoulder at Siegrain, who grinned at the guard's discomfort and made no move to explain anything.

Eventually, the guard seemed to decide it was more trouble than it was worth, and walked back the way he came with a shrug. Wendy dashed back over to him. "He said we could stay for as long as we needed to!" she cheered. "So we can watch the sunset after all." After a moment's thought, she passed the badge back and dropped back down to sit next to him on the sand. "You really are an important person now, huh?"

"I told you I was. Agents are actually pretty important. The Council uses an odd hierarchy."

When he didn't say anything else, she glanced at him curiously, wondering why he had stopped. He frowned. "I could explain it to you, Wendy, but I don't think you'd find it all that interesting."

"I'm interested," was all she said. "I like listening to you. Explain it while we wait for the sun to go down."

"Well, if you say so," he responded. She would probably stop him when she got bored anyway. "So in the magical community, the Chairman and the Council are the most important people. Below them comes the entire Rune Knight hierarchy – you know, generals, captains, and so on, all the way down to ordinary Knights, and trainees at the very bottom. But I'm an agent, and we're not technically part of the Rune Knights. We're sort of a side branch. On one hand, we answer directly to the Council, making us at least as important as the top commanders of the Rune Knights, and no one less than the Council can order us to do anything. On the other hand, we have absolutely no authority ourselves, so we can't order anyone to do anything either, not even a trainee Knight. It's a bit of an odd arrangement, I'll admit, but the Council depends on us, and there are so few of us that everything we do is pretty important."

"If the agents are so important, then why doesn't the Council have lots of them?" Wendy had scraped all the sand in front of her into a pile, and was attempting to pack it into the shape of a sandcastle using her hands while listening to him speak.

"Because it's too difficult to become one."

"Because you have to be really good at magic?"

"Partly. You have to be capable of undertaking dangerous solo missions, which naturally requires a strong command of magic and plenty of fighting experience, along with a good knowledge of magic in general. But that's not exactly rare. There are a lot of mages who fit that bill, especially in the guilds. That's not really the problem."

"Then what is?"

"There are three main routes you can take to become an agent of the Council," he explained, while she listened intently. Some children liked hearing stories of adventure. Some, on the other hand, who went on adventures with him on a fairly regular basis, clearly preferred to hear tales of government administration and career progression.

"All of them are difficult, for very particular reasons. Most agents start out as Rune Knights, the first route. Trainee Knights who have exceptional skill with magic, or who possess a particularly rare kind of magic that lends itself better to that kind of work, are occasionally encouraged to leave the normal training course and become agents instead. That's unusual, though. Rune Knight training is all about fighting as part of a group, or even an army – being able to respond to instructions, working effectively with allies, learning standard formations; that's the sort of thing they do. Even wielding their own magic is secondary to that sort of combined casting, so it's rare for anyone to develop their own power to the necessary level under those circumstances. Besides, Knights are trained to follow orders; that's the point of them. Acting independently is actively discouraged, whereas it is the most vital skill in my line of work.

"Alternatively, those high up in the ranks of the Knights could get chosen, and would certainly have the experience for it, but those who rise quickly amongst the Knights are those who have a natural talent for leadership. Agents, by the very nature of their work, are lone wolves; we might cooperate with a division of Rune Knights on a particular mission, but we're never given any commanding responsibilities. Being a good Rune Knight pretty much guarantees you'd be a bad agent, and vice versa. So that path is difficult.

"The second route involves starting out in a mage guild. That's the perfect environment for a young mage to develop their magic, gain experience doing jobs, and eventually even reach the level of skill required to be considered for the role. Equally, it's the worst possible environment for anyone who wants to work for the Council."

"What's wrong with guilds?" Wendy interrupted.

"Nothing, really. It's just that guilds are tight-knit communities. They're like families. You know this, right? Cait Shelter isn't just a guild, it's a village." She nodded, understanding. "The Council and the guilds don't always see eye to eye, however. Working for the Council sometimes – well, _often_ – means working against the guilds, so for a guild mage to become an agent, they not only have to sever all ties to their old guild, but might have to actively oppose them."

"So the Council wouldn't really trust anyone who applies from a guild?"

"Yeah, exactly. Though they hardly get any applicants from guilds in the first place. The guilds and the Council are pretty different; it's not unusual for each side to see the other as their enemy. Switching from the guild to the Council, even with the best of intentions, requires a complete change of mindset, and would be perceived by their former colleagues and family as betrayal. It's not that unusual for a guild mage to join the administrative or political side of the Council after retiring from active duty in their guild, but it's very rare for it to happen while they're still a practising mage."

"I see. But you weren't a guild mage, or a Rune Knight, right? So how did you get to be an agent?"

"I took the third route, which is the rarest of all. That's the mages who don't work for the Council or a legal guild, yet still have a level of mastery over magic that's sufficient to qualify them for the role."

"Why is that rare?"

He laughed. "Because being a practising mage who isn't affiliated with the Council or an official guild is illegal."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, though – it happens all the time. People usually learn magic outside of a guild. Whether you're taught by your parents, at a school, by a mentor or master, or whether you just figure it out for yourself, you've got to learn it somewhere – and that's fine, no one ever objects to that. But being an agent involves much more than just being able to use magic. You need experience, which can only be gained by doing jobs as a mage, and that's only legal if you're acting in the name of a Council-authorized guild or under the command of the Rune Knights. That's why pretty much all mages join guilds or the Knights when they're young. If you want to use magic – certainly if you want to make a career out of it – you don't really have a choice."

"That seems a bit unfair."

"Perhaps, but in practice, the Council turns a blind eye to those who want to use magic independently, as long as they're not causing trouble. Often, mages unconnected to the guilds might live in remote areas, making a living by helping out their local community with their magic, and we're fine with that. That's also why the Council distinguishes between dark guilds and independent guilds. Both are technically illegal, but we hunt dark ones and usually let independent ones be.

"Still, it makes it very difficult for an independent mage to get to the level needed to qualify as an agent. Why would a client go to an independent guild for help, when they could request the aid of a Council-assured one, and have all the legal protection that that entails if something goes wrong? Independent mages inevitably get landed with all the jobs that the legal guilds turn down; sometimes because they're borderline-illegal requests, in which case accepting them would brand them a dark guild in the eyes of the Council, but more often because they're simply too dangerous for most guild mages to consider accepting. To succeed in an independent guild, you have to be extremely good at what you do from the outset – and even if you somehow have that power, the Council is far less likely to trust you."

"They trusted you, though," Wendy pointed out, giving him her usual radiant smile.

"Yes. Yes, they did. And I will never quite fathom why."

"Because you're a good man."

"Once again, Wendy, your faith in me never fails to astound me. Of course, the Council might not be trusting me for much longer when they find out I've been at the beach today rather than working. Speaking of which, where's our usual follower?"

"In the café," she told him immediately, pointing over her shoulder at a little beachfront hut. At its windows, a welcoming golden light shone against the darkening sky. "Should we go and say hello?"

The café? That was a lot closer than he had ever come before. If he dashed over there now with Wendy, they'd definitely be able to corner him in there. They could confront him easily. Perhaps he was finally beginning to let his guard down, after so many months of supervising them without incident. Or maybe they weren't the only ones who fancied a holiday, and their pursuer was merely making the most of being at the beach.

Either way, there was no point in antagonizing him now. If he was prepared to let them enjoy their day off, they might as well let him enjoy his. "No. If he wants to talk, he'll come to us. We're not supposed to know he's there, remember?"

"Sure."

They were the only two visitors left on the beach, surrounded by undisturbed sand and lengthening shadows. Behind them, the indigo darkness hovering over the land was sprinkled with stars. Across the sea, they had an unimpeded view of a perfect sunset, a divine fiery crown reflected in pink, red and crimson along the calm ocean. He understood now why Wendy had asked to see this. There was a beauty in this world that he could still appreciate, he supposed – the simple kind of beauty, that would persist whether humans existed to see it or not.

Somewhere out there, across the sea, the Tower of Heaven waited for him. This was the closest to it he had been in person for many months, but he felt no need to rush to it. He was here with Wendy today, after all. And things were going well with the Council. There was no need for him to take risks now.

Wendy too was staring out across the sea. Occasionally, she opened her mouth as if to say something, but she never quite went through with it. Siegrain noticed, though. He observed her out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't disturb her. They watched in companionable silence as the sun went down.

And then night fell; slowly, gently, inevitably. It was a long way from being dark, but the sun was gone. Wendy shuffled a little closer to him once again, gazing up at the sky as more and more of the stars became visible. It wasn't cold, but it was only natural for a child to seek reassurance as darkness approached, wasn't it?

"It's quiet," she murmured.

There were lively sounds still emanating from the café, but they were strangely muffled. Even the sea seemed to have quietened down now that the day had officially ended. "It's night time, Wendy," he responded, amused. "It happens."

To his surprise, she shook her head. "That's not what I mean. The magic's quiet too."

He thought he knew what she meant. Given how sensitive she was to the presence of magic, it must have been loud and bright and lively to her senses with so many people around on the beach, and now that they were alone, the silence to her was even more poignant than it was to him. Surely she was used to that, though.

"I don't like it," she stated. She glanced at him anxiously. "Sometimes, when the wind blows towards us… Now that it's quiet, I can hear it."

"Can hear what?"

"Something terrible." He stilled at her words. She was so earnest; so worried. "Somewhere across the sea… there's something out there, isn't there?"

He could say no. He could say that he couldn't sense anything, and it wouldn't be a lie. But there was only one thing that she could possibly be sensing – only one thing that would evoke such a reaction of fear from her.

This girl was dangerous to him. When had he forgotten that? Even from the first day they met, which had almost ended in her getting him executed, he had known that, and still he had let himself get close to her. It would only take one mistake to bring everything crashing down around him, and Wendy, with her unpredictable naivety, could easily be his mistake. She was clearly unsettled by what she could sense. While she was unlikely to do something stupid like race off to investigate it alone, she might mention it to her guild, or even feel a duty to report it to the Council. And that would cause him problems. He was not yet ready to deal with the Council; if they found the Tower now, everything he had been working towards would fall apart.

But just as the awful realization that he might have to hurt this girl to ensure her silence on the matter hit him, it was tempered by another understanding; one that he clutched at feverishly. Wendy wouldn't deliberately do anything to hurt him. Right now, she was looking to him for guidance, and that meant that he might have another option: he could trust her. So he said, slowly, "Yes, there is."

"What is it?"

She was shivering. He felt a twinge of guilt. "What you are sensing is a place called the Tower of Heaven. That's where Jellal is."

Wendy sprung to her feet in a flurry of sand. "I've got to go there!"

"You can't," he told her. "Wendy, please, listen to me. Do you remember when I told you that Jellal is a bad person?" She nodded sadly. "He's in charge of a dark cult hiding in the Tower of Heaven which researches forbidden magic. If you go there, he will kill you."

"No." She shook her head defiantly, pulling away from him. "You're wrong. Jellal would never do that! He's my friend!"

"I know that," Siegrain said, and there was genuine sorrow in his voice. "He won't want to kill you. But if you go to the Tower of Heaven, he won't have a choice."

"I…" She looked at him, and he looked back at her. She tried, "But if you know he's there, shouldn't you- shouldn't we- if we're agents of the Council, don't we have to-?"

He gave a weary sigh. "You're right. I should tell the Council where he is. I haven't done so because… well, once the Council know, it's over, isn't it? Jellal and I will become enemies, and we'll have to fight. There'll be no going back, for either side. I don't want it to come to that. I know I'll have to tell the Council one day, but… I just need more time."

"Oh. I get it." And she smiled once again. "You're still trying to save him, aren't you?"

He stared at her for a long moment. "In a way, I suppose I am."

"Well, I want to save him too. So I won't tell anyone about the magic I can sense. Promise."

"Thank you, Wendy. It means a lot to me."

"It's strange, though. That magic. I think I've felt it before."

He shot her a sharp look. "You told me you'd never even been to the beach before, let alone to Akane Resort."

"I haven't! I never even saw the sea before today! I… don't really remember. The magic is so faint, I can't really tell what it is… or what it's reminding me of… I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize." Her response was a little unnerving, and certainly not something that he had expected, but it was clear from her downcast expression that if there was something more she could tell him about the subject, then she would have done so already. He did, however, want to put an end to this matter here and now. "But Wendy, I need you to do something for me. Promise me that you will never go near the Tower of Heaven."

She only hesitated for a moment. She couldn't refuse him when he was asking her so earnestly. "Okay. I promise." Then, struck by a sudden thought, she added, "In return, will you promise never to hurt anyone because of me?"

This again? It was almost with anger that he shook his head. "No. I won't promise you that."

"Why not?"

"Because there may come a time when you are in danger and I have to hurt someone in order to save you. In that situation, I won't hesitate for a moment."

"…Oh. I guess I hadn't thought of that."

"That's because you're too kind to be in my line of work, Wendy," he told her, with a smile. "And on the subject of things you shouldn't be doing, it's far too late for a child like you to be lounging about on the beach. Let's go home. I need to get you back to your village soon or your Guild Master will roast me alive."

"Okay!" Wendy chirruped. As an afterthought, she added brightly, "I don't think he'd do that though. Master Roubaul doesn't eat meat."

"…I think you may be slightly missing the point there." With a sigh, he finally extracted his legs from their tomb of sand and stood up, stretching out his sore muscles. He still ached all over – accidental overexertion of magic could be a real pain – but at least he could move. As long as they didn't encounter any dark guilds between here and the train station, they'd be fine. "Come on, Wendy. Let's go."

Side by side, they walked through the night. They made it almost all the way to the road before something else caught Wendy's attention. Though the entire amusement park was dark, the lights were still on in a little hut at the edge of the beach near the resort's exit. Typical that the last place to close would be the gift shop – but it had the desired effect on this particular nine-year-old, who immediately stopped in her tracks and turned to her companion with her hands outstretched.

"Siegrain! Please may I borrow some money?"

He gave her an exasperated look. "Wendy, if I lend you money, am I ever going to get it back?"

She thought for a moment. "Nope," she answered, as cheerful and honest as ever.

"Well, it's not really borrowing then, is it?"

"Nope. But Master Roubaul told me it was better to ask to borrow than to have!"

"But that's… oh, never mind. What do you want the money for?"

"It's a surprise!"

"…I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" he muttered to himself, handing over what Wendy had asked for. She disappeared into the gift shop and was gone for several long minutes.

When she finally emerged, she was clutching a small paper bag. " _Now_ can we go home?" he asked.

"Not yet. First, this is for you." And she pushed the bag into his hands.

"For me?"

"Yup!"

With no small amount of trepidation, he reached into the bag – relieved to find that the thing inside was solid, dry, and definitely not alive – and pulled out a small figurine. It was a snail, probably hand-crafted from materials found on the beach. The snail's shell was a beautiful spiral seashell, alternating cream and toffee-coloured with a shimmering pearl finish. It sat snugly in the palm of his hand, looking up at him with shiny eyes. He had to admit that it was a pretty little thing, even though it served absolutely no purpose whatsoever. It was easy to see why Wendy had been attracted to it.

Since he wasn't saying anything, Wendy seemed happy to carry on her one-sided conversation. "I thought you could put it in your flat. You know, since your flat is really boring and there's nothing to do there, if you had it then whenever you looked at it you would remember the time we went to the beach and be happy." Then, when he still said nothing, she added, "Don't you like it? You don't, do you?"

"No, I do like it. I'm not sure what snails have to do with the beach, though…"

"I liked the turtle one best, but they'd sold out," she informed him brightly. "They only had snails left. But I thought it was pretty anyway."

"Yeah, it is. Thank you, Wendy."

She beamed at him before dancing off along the shadowy footpath. Night had well and truly fallen; their way was lit by the stars alone. He watched her fondly for a moment, that little girl running through the dark world with no trace of fear, before shaking his head at his own sentimentality and running to catch up.

Almost as soon as he reached her she stopped in her tracks, and he almost tripped over her. "Wendy!" he complained.

She ignored him, instead pointing towards the sky. "Look! Shooting stars!"

As he watched, a brief streak of light flashed across the sky, followed by another, and then another. Transient stars. Little flashes of hope. Just for an instant, they burned brightly enough to push back the black night – and then they were gone, swallowed back into the nothingness of space. But for the girl watching them in wide-eyed wonder, each ephemeral life left behind a memory that would live forever.

"Pretty, aren't they? Make a wish."

"Why?" she asked him, genuinely curious.

"Isn't that what people do when they see shooting stars?"

"Maybe other people do, but not me. There's nothing I want to wish for that I don't already have."

With those words, she skipped along ahead of him once more – only to spin around so suddenly that Siegrain thought he was under attack. "I get it now! That's what you are!"

"I'm… what?"

"You know, earlier. When you were flying with your magic. You were just like a shooting star!"

Literally and metaphorically: a being blazing free in the wide open sky; a star which answered the wishes of the one child who believed in it above all else.

"A meteor, huh?" he echoed, and a small smile crept across his face. "Yeah, I like it. I like it a lot."

* * *

Despite her best efforts to the contrary, it took all of about five minutes for Wendy to fall asleep on the train. With no one but a comatose child and a statue of a snail for company, Siegrain had nothing else to do but count down the stations until they finally arrived back in the middle of nowhere, bored out of his mind. And he had never thought that he would miss Wendy's non-stop chatter.

She awoke briefly as they alighted from the train – just long enough for Siegrain to get her to climb onto his back so that he could carry her home. Even the closest train station was a good hour's walk from Cait Shelter. As he began the long trek down the unlit country path, he couldn't help sighing. Why did her guild have to be so far away from _everything?_ Well, he understood why Roubaul wanted to keep this particular guild so isolated, but that didn't stop it from being annoying.

At least if he became better at flying with Wendy, it might cut down their commuting time. He was far too tired to try something like that now, though. It was enough of an effort just to keep putting one foot in front of the other, while Wendy slept contentedly with her head resting on his shoulder. Children, he decided, were like cats – they could sleep _anywhere_ , no matter how uncomfortable it looked.

At long last, they arrived back in the guild. The little encampment was completely silent, though that wasn't unusual even for an ordinary village at this time of night. As always, no sooner had Siegrain set foot in Cait Shelter territory than its Guild Master emerged from the largest hut and headed straight for them.

"Wendy, come on, wake up," Siegrain muttered. "We're back."

"Mmm?" she murmured sleepily. Her eyelids fluttered open with great reluctance.

Roubaul approached them, regarding Siegrain with his usual hostility. There was never any pretending to be a kindly old Guild Master when he thought something was wrong with Wendy. "What happened?" he demanded, cutting straight to the chase.

Perhaps for the first time, Siegrain had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. "It's been a long day," he answered wryly.

At the sound of his voice, Wendy seemed to shake herself awake. "It's been the best day ever!" she corrected him.

"Really?" Roubaul's words became gentle again as his focus slipped from Siegrain to Wendy. "What did you do?"

She wriggled out of his grasp and jumped to the floor. "So many things! We walked next to the sea with the waves coming over our feet, and built sandcastles, and won the beach ball game-"

"Beach volleyball," Siegrain corrected her, with a smile.

"And we went on the dodgems and the Ferris wheel and the rollercoaster, which was hilarious because Siegrain was terrified-"

"I was _not_."

"Then we ate ice creams and doughnuts and this thing I've never had before, which was like eating air, but it was pink and fluffy and really sweet-"

"Candy floss."

"Yeah, that, and then we went flying, and Siegrain didn't even threaten anyone-"

"Another ringing endorsement there, Wendy…"

"And we watched the sunset from the beach and there were shooting stars and it was the most amazing, most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Wendy had managed to get through the entire description of their day without pausing for breath. At last she stopped to gulp down air before she was off again, this time running over to Roubaul and grabbing his wrinkled hands in her own. "I want to show you! Let's go there together!"

"I…" He looked into her shining eyes and felt his heart break all over again. "I'd love to take you to the beach, Wendy, but you know I can't leave the guild for very long."

"Yeah, I know…" she conceded, glancing away.

"But I'm sure Siegrain would take you to the beach again at some point, if you asked him nicely."

Wendy turned to her friend. "Really?"

"Sure. Just give me time to recover from this trip first. I'm not sure holidays are supposed to be quite this exhausting…"

She grinned, and before he knew it she had run up to him and thrown her arms around him. "Thank you," she whispered.

After a moment's surprise, he returned her embrace, closing his eyes with a smile. "That's alright. But it's way past your bedtime, Wendy, so you should probably let me go now."

"Ah! You're right!" Jumping as if stung, she backed away from him and began to run towards one of the smaller tents. Just before reaching it, she stopped, and turned to wave at Siegrain. The overexcited motion made her entire body sway from side to side. "Goodbye! Come back soon!"

"I will. Goodnight, Wendy."

He waved until she had disappeared, and then he began to walk back towards the forest, already thinking about where they could go next. He had to deal with the repercussions from the Council first, of course. There was every possibility that they would stop him from going out on missions for a while as punishment for today's spontaneous holiday. By the time he was back to normal work, the beach season would be over. What did people do for holidays during the winter? He had a dim recollection that skiing was a thing normal people did. He had never seen the appeal of snow himself, but then again, he hadn't thought that a trip to the beach was going to end up being an enjoyable day either. Wendy would probably be up for anything new and exciting.

Only when he became aware of what he was doing did he call an end to that train of thought and give the night sky a rueful smile. He was supposed to be plotting the destruction of the Council from within, not his next daytrip with a nine-year-old girl. Then again, it wasn't as if the Tower was going anywhere. His plans were still far from completion, and while he remained unable to return to the Tower, nothing he did – whether it was working non-stop for the Council or taking the occasional day off – was going to change how quickly his cult could finish building the system. Why not make the most of Fiore's tourist attractions while they still existed? He vaguely remembered seeing a pair of bright pink skiing goggles in Mrs Mollins's flat. Perhaps he should ask her about ski resorts-

"Siegrain."

The quiet voice cut through his reverie. He had thought he had been alone, and he turned in surprise to see that Roubaul had followed him out of the guild, and was stood a few paces away from him. Perhaps unexpectedly, the old man seemed subdued rather than confrontational. Biting back the aggressive retort which had sprung automatically to his lips, Siegrain waited to see what he wanted in silence.

Master Roubaul took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He would not meet the young man's eyes. "Perhaps I was wrong to judge you," he confessed. "I don't like you, and I don't trust you, but today… I've never seen Wendy smile like that before."

Siegrain said nothing.

"I only ever wanted her to be happy. This magic, this guild – that's all it was ever for, just to see that smile. But it's not me that she needs, is it? It's you."

The old man had spent that day in anguish over his precious daughter, and his internal struggle was evident in the regret in his voice. He had made his decision, though. After today, after seeing the true bond between the two of them and knowing that he would never be able to compete with it, how could he hate Siegrain?

"All I want is for her to be happy. If that means keeping you around, then so be it. I'll teach you the magic you want to know."

Siegrain stared at him for a long moment – and then his eyes opened wide. With everything that had happened since that morning, he had completely forgotten the request he had made of Wendy's Guild Master. He didn't dare to speak, in case this was some sort of joke.

It wasn't. Opportunity arose from the most unlikely of places. "Just take care of her," the old man continued. Sincere, honest. "That's all I ask."

A slow smile spread across Siegrain's face. "I most certainly will."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _That turned into a longer chapter than I was anticipating. That's what happens when I get distracted - I wanted to explore a bit around what work Jellal actually does for the Council, and why it makes him important to the point where he'll later be considered for positions as a Wizard Saint and on the Council itself, and then got a bit carried away (explaining stuff is fun!). Sorry about that. Though I do like how it shows how accustomed to working for the Council Jellal has become without even realizing it, in how he not only knows this stuff but is more than happy to talk about it as if it's a perfectly normal part of his life. Not to mention how close he and Wendy are now. Ah, the happiness. Hehe._

 _Anyway, with the conclusion of that storyline, Jellal now has all the pieces he needs to clear his name with the Council and begin making progress on that front. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! ~CS_


	10. Matthias

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Matthias-**

 **September, X781**

"Goodbye, mother. Yes, I will visit next week. Bye- Yes, like I said, get in touch with the solicitor first and see what he says, and _then_ I will look at it for you. Mother, you know I'm busy – look, if you had only taken my advice when he first moved in then you wouldn't be in this mess now! Yes, fine, fine. Look, I've got to go. I'll drop by when I can. Goodbye."

Ignoring her renewed protests, Melchior left his mother's flat and slammed the door behind him with a little more force than he intended. Only when he was alone in the dark foyer did he stop and take a deep breath in an attempt to regain his usual composure.

He rested his forehead against the door with a soft thump. Fate was infuriatingly fickle. He could catch it, but he could not keep hold of it, nor bend it to his will. Every time he thought he had it, there was another ironic twist, another sadistic turn, and he was left clutching nothing but empty-

"Councillor?"

The sudden voice made him jump; though soft as velvet, it sliced through the silent dark like a knife. "I apologize for startling you," it continued, polite but not quite sincere; an apology for a sin that had been completely intentional.

There was no point pretending he hadn't been caught by surprise. The best he could do was brush it off – accept it as an early defeat and move on before it could affect his performance for the rest of the game. "Siegrain. I didn't see you there."

Having only just emerged from the brightly lit cave of wonders that was his mother's dwelling place, his eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness of the foyer. If there was a light out here in the hallway, its bulb clearly needed replacing, for the only source of illumination came through the frosted glass at the top of the door from a single streetlight outside. Glancing around, straining his eyes in the gloom, he found Siegrain's shadowy form at last, stood on the stairs leading up to his own flat. The young man's eyes gleamed like a cat's in the night.

"What can I do for you?" the councillor continued, and his voice was as slick and calm as ever.

"There is something I wish to talk to you about, if you have a moment to spare."

"Of course."

At his acquiescence, Siegrain turned and began to climb the stairs. Melchior followed with trepidation. With his back to that lone streetlamp, he had the distinct feeling that he was ascending into darkness; to a place where only shadows awaited them.

Siegrain led him into the flat, closed the door behind them, locked it, and activated the lacrima embedded in the ceiling with a flick of his hand. Siegrain's home was still as impersonal as ever, but that didn't mean it was unwelcoming; in fact, he preferred the young man's minimalism to the obsessive kleptomania from which his mother seemed to suffer. Then again, the place wasn't entirely unchanged from his last visit. On the windowsill, keeping a careful eye out on the street below, was the flat's single ornament: a small hand-carved snail figurine. It was such a contrast to the sinister shadows he had been expecting that Melchior couldn't help but feel foolish for his brief and irrational fear. He wondered absently if whatever his mother had was contagious. This could be the start of a slippery slope.

"It was a present from Wendy." Siegrain had caught him looking, and offered an unsurprising explanation.

"Consider yourself lucky she has better taste than my mother," the councillor responded, with a wry smile. "Well, what it is you wanted to talk to me about?"

Siegrain leaned back against the wall. His gaze met the councillor's for a moment, and then slipped to the side with uncharacteristic timidity; the perfect picture of guilt. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, even regretful. "I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest with the Council. I know where Jellal is."

* * *

Wendy was no longer afraid of the dream. Rather, she looked upon it with fondness. It was with compassion that she regarded her younger self, when she had believed she would be all alone within the vast, empty world until she died. If she could have somehow gone back and told herself that those times wouldn't last forever then she wouldn't have hesitated for a moment, but that wasn't possible. What she could do was look towards the future, instead of regretting the past, and resolve to live the wonderful life she had now as best she could.

That night, she lingered atop the hill of her dream. One hand rested upon the rocks forming the dragon's silhouette. This place no longer saddened her. Her mother was still with her in her memories; she lived alongside her in the magic with which she protected herself and her best friend. Wendy missed her, and she always would, but was not lonely because of it. She knew that all she needed to do was turn round, and Siegrain would be there waiting for her. There was no need to rush. He would always be there, no matter how long she stayed here for.

And as the sun set – or was it rising? – over the golden scene from her memory, something stirred deep in the back of her mind.

Waking up with a start, Wendy sat bolt upright in bed. "I've got to tell Siegrain!" she announced, to no one in particular. "I've got to tell him!"

* * *

Roubaul entered her tent some time later to find her hurriedly packing everything she could possibly need for an expedition into a little rucksack. She hadn't noticed him, so he watched with fondness as she held up a dress she had made herself in one hand and a small pair of trousers in the other, debating out loud which would be more practical for a journey at this time of year.

"Going somewhere, Wendy?" he asked, bemused.

She paused in her packing to give him a large, beaming smile. "Yup! I'm going to Era! There's something I've got to tell Siegrain!"

"Right now? Can't it wait until he next comes to visit? It's been at least three weeks since you went to the beach, so going by his usual patterns, he'll probably be back soon."

"I know, but he did say that he might not be able to return for a while. It's really important that I go as soon as possible. So, can I? Please?"

He had never intended to stop her. "If that's what you want, then of course you can."

"Thank you!" With his agreement, Wendy shoved both outfits into the backpack, pulled the straining clasp shut, and shouldered it with an eager smile. "I'll be back soon!"

With those parting words, she tried to dash past him, only to be foiled as he barred her way with both arms outstretched. "Hold it right there. How, exactly, are you planning to get to Era?"

"By train!"

"And how are you going to pay for the train ticket?"

"…Oh." Her expression of dismay lasted only for a moment, as she clapped her hands together and fixed him with an earnest look. "Please can I borrow some money?"

"I suppose so. Will you be alright travelling on your own?"

"Yup! Me and Siegrain go on trains all the time!"

"Well, if you're so sure, then I won't stop you."

"Thank-"

"But I _am_ going to make sure that you've packed appropriately for the trip. It's a long journey, Wendy. Have you even thought about what you're going to eat?" He couldn't help sighing as she shook her head. Sending his clumsy daughter out on a solo mission was a recipe for disaster. Siegrain may have been an irresponsible guardian, but he did have slightly more common sense than Wendy. At least together they had a chance to cover for each other's mistakes. "Come on. Let's see if there's any food left over from last night."

* * *

As she had promised, Wendy had no trouble getting herself to Era. Even if Siegrain was always in charge during their adventures, she was naturally observant, and could easily deal with things that might have intimidated other children her age – both in combat situations and in everyday life. Disembarking in the grand station that had become so familiar to her over the past few months, she gave the impressive architecture that had thrilled her on her first visit – Siegrain had had to physically carry her out of the station in order to get her to leave – no more than a cursory glance as she hurried towards his house, caught up in the urgency of her mission.

She wove her way unerringly through the streets until she was stood on the pavement outside her friend's flat. As she frowned up at the door, wondering how to get in when she didn't have a key, her eyes fell on the intercom, and she jabbed the buttons repeatedly. Nothing happened. Though she waited for what seemed like an hour, there was still no response. "He's not here…?" she wondered, dismayed.

And then her eyes lit up once more. "Maybe he's at work!" she exclaimed to herself, and dashed off again.

The Council Headquarters was an enormous building, situated right at the top of the hill in the centre of Era. She had only been inside a few times, and always with Siegrain; as the hub of the magical world, it was far too important for just anyone to be able to enter. It was also far too easy to get lost in. It wasn't just the size of the building that was the problem – the Council chambers and offices alone were bad enough, being large enough to house the several hundred people who worked there, but it was also the base of operations for the Rune Knights, and thus had immense training facilities and barracks on site as well. To make matters worse, the command centre for Etherion was stationed right in the middle of the complex, and its perpetual roar was so loud that it made finding anyone by searching for their magical presence downright impossible.

Not that that was going to put her off. There were some Rune Knights that she would have recognized from her missions, who would probably let her in and help her look for Siegrain, but the odds of any of them being on guard duty at that moment were very low indeed. Fortunately, she had had plenty of experience sneaking into places with Siegrain. During tourist season, certain areas of the grounds and foyer of the building were opened up to the public for guided tours, and it was a simple matter for her to evade the Knights at the entrance and join the back of one such tour group. No one paid the little girl the slightest bit of attention. After that, it was just a case of biding her time until they reached the edge of the cordoned-off area, beyond which the Council's employees worked as normal, and then ducking under the rope while their guides' backs were turned. No one noticed her go; grinning to herself, she wondered if Siegrain would be proud.

She made it halfway across the building before she was stopped. A pair of off-duty Rune Knights, suspicious at the sight of a child wandering alone through the centre of the government offices, caught her and were about to escort her out when a familiar face appeared.

"Wendy? Is that you?"

"Ah! Good morning, Councillor Melchior, sir."

"No need to be so formal, Wendy. We're friends, aren't we?" the councillor responded, with a practised smile. He indicated to the Knights that he would handle this, and they respectfully left the scene. "Are you looking for Siegrain, perchance?"

"Yup! Is he working today?"

Amusement danced in the councillor's eyes. "Did he not tell you? He's been suspended from active duty for three months. Something about abandoning a mission in order to go to the beach… you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, now, would you?"

She gave him a look that was halfway between guilt and uncertainty. "He told me the beach _was_ the mission…"

"So, even he can be sweet at times, huh?" Melchior remarked to himself.

Not quite sure what he was getting at, she blinked up at him and changed the subject. "So does that mean he's not here?"

"No, he's certainly here."

"Really? Where?"

"I'll take you there. You shouldn't really be wandering around here on your own. Besides, I have news for him too. Come along."

* * *

Siegrain had come to the conclusion that having a reputation was definitely something to be avoided. It had been bad enough when his reputation had been for being one of the Council's most elusive enemies, as it had made his rare ventures onto the mainland in search of information or resources ten times more dangerous than if there hadn't been a price on his head.

Having a good reputation, however, was even worse. Now it seemed as if he couldn't go ten minutes in the training ground without someone asking his advice on something magic-related or wanting to spar against him for training purposes. Apparently rumours of the Council's newest agent's combat prowess and magical expertise had spread without his knowledge, and now half the Rune Knights in the army seemed to want to test themselves against him.

He hadn't spent much time in the Council Headquarters before now, coming here only to report back and receive his next task. However, with the suspension in place, he was forbidden from leaving Era or from undertaking any missions, and all of a sudden he had a lot of free time on his hands. Initially, he had spent every waking moment preparing for his next move; restructuring and refining the magic he had been taught so that it would better suit his purposes. Then, a week ago, it had all come to a head: his plan had gone without a hitch and his greatest gamble had paid off. He returned to Era without anyone knowing he had left, only to find himself bored out of his mind. With nothing better to do, he had decided to make use of the extensive training facilities tacked on to the Rune Knight Headquarters to make sure that the inactivity wouldn't have an impact on his fighting skills, and it was on the second day of his fairly rigorous fitness training that the first strangers approached him.

At first, unsure of what to make of their requests, he had turned them down. As time had gone on, and he had had the chance to observe normal behaviour of the Knights in training, he had come to realize that practice bouts between Knights were a common affair – so common, in fact, that there was an entire arena over to one side of the complex, complete with seats for spectators and barriers reinforced with magic so that combatants could fight without fear of damaging the building. And then, one day, completely out of the blue, he had finally agreed to one of their requests – and he wasn't sure whether it was the Knight or he himself who was more surprised by his concession.

A full-on battle was out of the question. He was hardly about to reveal the true extent of his magical abilities in full view of the people who he would one day have to fight for real. However, there was nothing wrong with an unarmed match – one without weapons or magic – and it certainly put him and his opponent on a more even footing.

It wasn't like anything he had done before. He wasn't fighting to kill or to subdue his opponent. He wasn't fighting to survive or to escape or even to protect Wendy. He wasn't fighting to assert his dominance, as he might have done back at the Tower. He wasn't even fighting for fun. He was fighting purely because someone else had asked him to, because someone he hardly knew had requested that they be permitted to test themselves against him. He wasn't enjoying it, as such, but then he wasn't exactly not enjoying it either. He kept personal interactions with other people to a minimum as a matter of principle, but he had to admit that, if nothing else, combat training with another person was a lot more interesting than lifting weights or running laps of the track.

And, as if on cue, here came the other exception to his principle.

"Siegrain!" Her joyful voice reached him across the still air of the almost-empty arena. That was Wendy; there was no mistaking it. What on earth was she doing here? On instinct he turned at her shout to see her entering the arena at Melchior's side, waving her arms over her head.

In the corner of his eye he saw his opponent springing forwards to strike. With a silent curse, he turned his full attention back to the fight. He launched a quick retaliatory blow, hoping to stop the young Rune Knight before he could take advantage of the momentary distraction, but in his haste he overstretched. Slipping into an unfamiliar martial arts stance that certainly wasn't taught as part of standard training, the Knight seized Siegrain's wrist while he was vulnerable and swept his left foot round behind him, applying force and rotation to the lock.

Siegrain knew that if he resisted, his wrist would break in an instant. He didn't panic. Instead, he let his entire body go limp, allowing his opponent to flip him through the air. He was perfectly calm, waiting for his moment. The Knight, believing that his move had won him victory, loosened his grip on his opponent's wrist in complacency. That was when Siegrain burst to life. Even though he was still in the air, his body became a blur of motion. When he should have landed flat on his back, he rotated an extra half-turn in mid-air with sheer strength, and landed on his feet in a crouch. With both his opponent's hands still uselessly clinging to his, he shot forwards and drove his other fist up into the Knight's solar plexus. He was sent sprawling backwards along the ground, where he remained, trying to get his breath back; a signal that he had accepted defeat.

Exhaling slowly, Siegrain let himself relax. The next thing he knew, something small and lively barrelled into him from the side, almost knocking him straight off his feet. Wendy clung to him tightly, giggling all the while; a little ball of happiness. He glanced down at her, gave a reluctant smile, and ruffled her hair fondly. "Hey there, Wendy. What are you doing here?"

"I've come to visit you!" she chirped. Her gaze slid sideways to the defeated Knight, who, having managed to climb to his feet, was walking steadily over to them. For a moment, Siegrain thought she was going to berate him for fighting, but instead she just gave him a broad grin. "That was awesome!"

"Thank you. But that wasn't really an answer to my question, Wendy," he added, letting his voice become a little stricter. "Is there any particular reason for this sudden visit? Same goes for you, Councillor – is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, though I am waiting for someone else to arrive first," Melchior responded smoothly. He appeared to be in an unusually good mood, Siegrain noted, and yet his answer gave no indication of the cause. Nothing would be gained from jumping to conclusions, so Siegrain refrained from asking why – or even from acting as if he had noticed at all. The councillor continued, "As for Wendy, however…"

"Well…" The girl looked up at her friend, suddenly shy. She glanced awkwardly from him to the councillor, which only deepened his confusion. What was it that Wendy had to tell him that this honest, pure-hearted girl didn't feel could be said in front of the councillor? Whatever it was, he was grateful. It seemed that the girl whose innocent good intentions had almost got him executed on the day they met had finally learned some discretion.

Fortunately, he was saved from having to act by the arrival of the Knight joining their group. He nodded respectfully to Siegrain and Melchior, with absolutely no trace of resentment about his defeat, and then to the girl, he said, "It's Wendy, isn't it?"

She nodded once, cautiously. There wasn't an ounce of suspicion in her gaze – was there ever? – but she did look up at him with deep curiosity.

"Ah, I'm sorry," the Knight apologized, with an awkward smile. "You probably don't remember me, do you? My name is Lahar. I'm a Rune Knight in the Custody and Enforcement Division."

Wendy tilted her head to one side, trying to work out where they might have met before. He was tall, though everyone was tall compared to her, and there was nothing about his standard issue Rune Knight uniform – minus the cloak and armour, which had been shed to facilitate the hand-to-hand battle – to make him stand out from any of the other Knights she had encountered over the past year. His long hair was pinned up in an elegant yet practical style, most likely to keep it out of the way during combat, and it highlighted his young, angular face. Behind sleek glasses, his eyes were sharp, but his smile was genuine. Wendy, who already embraced the view that everyone she met was a good person until proven otherwise, immediately took a liking to him – even if she didn't remember him at all.

"We met once before, in the Council Headquarters," he explained kindly. "I took you back to Cait Shelter."

"Oh! I remember now!" Her eyes opened wide in realization. "Sorry! I only didn't realize it was you because you've changed colour."

"…I beg your pardon?"

The confused Knight glanced at Siegrain for help, who gave a resigned smile. "She probably means your magic," he explained.

Wendy nodded firmly, as if it was obvious. "Last time we met, it was springy."

"Springy…?" Lahar repeated, utterly mystified.

"And now it's still a little bit springy, but it's mostly smooth and solid. Firm, you know? Stable. Like if you touched it, you'd slide straight off. In a good way," she added hastily.

"Right…? And what does that have to do with colour…?"

"Just smile and nod," Siegrain advised him. He was used to this.

"…Right…"

Wendy's next question took the Knight by surprise. "You've gained new magic since then, haven't you? New, uh… what do you call it?" She glanced at Siegrain, who shrugged; all his experience in dealing with this girl wasn't helping him follow this conversation. "Primary magic! That's it. That's what Siegrain says. You switched your primary magic. Didn't you?"

"Well, I…" The Knight frowned. "Since then, I passed the Rune Knight practical exams, so I suppose that might signify that Jutsu Shiki is my primary magic now… but how could you possibly have known that?"

"Because I'm a dog," she told him brightly.

Siegrain clapped a hand to his forehead. "Wendy, what did I tell you about saying things like that?" he asked with a sigh of despair, only prompting her to giggle. Lahar looked between the two of them, utterly bemused.

"Oh!" Wendy exclaimed, suddenly looking at the Knight. "I'm sorry for interrupting your battle. He didn't hurt you, did he? I can heal you if he did."

"He didn't, don't worry."

"Good. You don't have to stop because of me," she added, not wanting to get in the way. "I can wait until you're done."

"No, we're done," came Siegrain's immediate response, prompting a hurt look from the Knight.

"I thought you said best of three."

"I did say that, but I'm not sure there's much point. A rematch now will only end the same way. Ask me again in a week or so."

Though his words seemed harsh, they were intended to be truthful, not cruel. At the very least, a man who had been through the Knights' training programme could understand the sentiment. Lahar nodded in acquiescence. "Then, at least tell me where I was going wrong, so that I know what to work on for next time."

As Siegrain frowned, trying to push away the thought that he was not at all suited for this kind of thing and come up with a satisfactory response, a new voice broke into the conversation. It was loud, deep, confident, faintly amused; completely unfamiliar and yet completely at ease.

"Where to start?" the newcomer mused, with a jovial laugh, teasing but not malicious. "You're obviously not used to unarmed single combat, when your opponent clearly is; I don't even know what they teach in Rune Knight training these days, but you're far too used to fighting in a group. You're subconsciously expecting support, even if you know it's not going to come, and it's influencing how you move. Your opponent is stronger, faster and smarter than you, and you don't seem to want to admit that; certainly, you're not taking the necessary steps to counter it. But, most importantly, you let him fool you into thinking that you had a chance of winning. You didn't. Not from the start. And that's why you lost so quickly."

Siegrain raised his eyebrows. "What he said."

Impressed despite himself by the newcomer's observational skills, Siegrain examined him intently as he jumped effortlessly over the railing separating the first tier of seating from the arena floor and began to stride towards them. There was nothing to indicate that his initial judgements about this man from the tone of his voice had been misplaced. His walk was that of a man completely at home in his environment; his broad grin typical of someone who found himself amongst close friends, or perhaps family. He had probably ten years on Siegrain in age, and a good inch or two in height – even so, his face had an unusually weathered look for a man who could still be described as young, boasting thick stubble, a scar down one cheek, and piercing blue eyes that took in everything around him in an instant.

He was well-built, and proud of it. He wore armour, but it wasn't the standard armour of the Rune Knights. Rather than steel, it was minimal leather armour, dyed night-blue, designed to allow him almost full mobility. Its thin surface didn't quite conceal the powerful muscles underneath. A white cloak billowed out behind him, emblazoned with the ankh symbol of the Magic Council. Though he did not carry either the sword or the spear typical of the Council's Knights, in between steps Siegrain's sharp eye caught sight of a hilt protruding horizontally outwards from behind the stranger's right hip; most likely there was a knife of some sort strapped to his lower back.

He might have been intimidating – he probably _would_ have been, if they had met on the battlefield – yet he was that rare type of man who was as much at home in amicable social gatherings as he was in combat. Despite his fearsome appearance, the worn creases at the corners of his mouth attested to the frequency of his smile, and his eyes shone with gentle mirth.

Before Siegrain could say anything, there was a sharp tugging at his sleeve. Wendy was gazing up at him earnestly. "What is it?" he checked.

"That's the guy," she said, indicating the newcomer.

"What guy?" came his predictably baffled response.

"You know, _the guy_."

"Wha- oh! I see." A small smile crossed his face. "In that case…"

Having judged the newcomer to be the kind of friendly man who was liked by anyone, Siegrain found himself shocked into silence by Lahar's reaction to his appearance. The polite Knight, who was respectful to everyone without fail, especially to his superiors, rounded hotly on the stranger with a scowl. "If I wanted your opinion, I'd have asked for it," he snapped. "How long were you watching for?"

Not fazed in the slightest by Lahar's anger, the newcomer gave an airy shrug. "Since the start."

"Don't you have anything better to do than come here and make fun of me?"

Reaching them at last, the man dropped his arm around Lahar's shoulders in what was clearly a familiar gesture. The Knight's scowl deepened; an equally automatic reaction. "Sure I do. But it would be irresponsible of me if I didn't drop by every now and again to check up on you."

"They don't work you hard enough," Lahar muttered, trying and failing to wriggle out of that unwanted embrace.

"Perhaps not," came the cheerful response. "If it helps, I don't think you did all that badly in that fight. It wasn't your fault your opponent was way out of your league. Against most of your fellow Knights, that final move you used would have been enough to guarantee victory. Where did you learn that, by the way? It certainly wasn't from the barracks."

"Dad taught me."

"Really? He never taught _me_ anything like that."

"He tried to," grunted Lahar. "Three times. You just never listened."

"…Yeah, that does sound like me," the other man conceded. Lahar took the chance to duck out of his embrace, and this time, he successfully made it to safety. "Maybe I shouldn't complain, then."

His gaze fell upon the others then, and he headed towards them with a broad grin. "Ah, where are my manners? I ought to introduce myself. I'm Matthias, and I see you've already met my kid brother Lahar."

"Siegrain. And this is Wendy." They both shook his proffered hand in turn.

"I know. I've been looking forward to finally meeting you two."

"Same to you," replied Siegrain, with a slight smile. "I was hoping I would get the chance to thank you in person."

"Whatever for?"

"For waiting until the end of the day to turn us in to the Council, rather than reporting us straight away and ruining our day at the beach."

"Oh?" After a moment of surprise, Matthias burst out into laughter. "So you did know it was me. Well, in that case, I'm glad I could help out. Or perhaps I should be the one thanking you. After all, it's not every day that I get to visit an amusement park while on duty and completely get away with it!"

Lahar shot him a resentful glare. "You ought to be suspended for having an attitude like that."

"Ah, you're just jealous," came the easy reply. "Besides, it's been a really long and boring last nine months or so for me. I thought I deserved at least one fun day." He turned his attention back to Siegrain with a grin. "No offence, but you're a really boring man to tail. Especially when I wasn't allowed to get close or interfere with your jobs at all. By the end of it I was really hoping you were going to try and make a break for it, or something, just to make my job a little bit more interesting."

"Sorry to disappoint you," he laughed in response.

"So this is what you've been up to recently, is it?" Lahar inquired of his brother, unimpressed. "I did wonder. I suppose it makes sense." He glanced briefly at Siegrain. "They gave you all the jobs they'd normally give him, and have him keep an eye on you in order to make sure that you didn't mess up. But for you to introduce yourself now, that means…"

"That's right," Matthias announced. "Our friend Siegrain here has been officially cleared of all suspicion."

Siegrain's eyes widened. "Then you…"

His words were directed to Melchior, who nodded a solemn affirmative. "Yes. We went to the Tower of Heaven."

"…I see." He glanced away, almost shamefully, biting his lip; playing this part came easily to him. His voice was little more than a whisper. "When?"

"About a week ago. I apologize for not informing you in advance, but-"

"No, it was the right decision. Even now, I don't know how I would have reacted if you had told me beforehand…" He let his voice tail off meekly. And then, quietly: "Did you kill him?"

"No. We went to the Tower of Heaven to confront Jellal, and found it heavily guarded, as you said it would be. Two ships were sunk, and the Knights sustained several casualties during the fighting. We were forced to retreat, and quickly. We weren't prepared for Jellal or his followers to be that powerful."

"…Yeah." An expression of sadness crossed his face, as to bear the blame for his brother's actions.

Perhaps in response to Siegrain's sorrow, Melchior added, "But it was not a completely wasted venture. We brought back documents from the Tower of Heaven – records of the research undertaken by Jellal's cult. While it is true that he follows dangerous ideals in the pursuit of forbidden magic, there is nothing he knows that demands our immediate attention. We could take the Tower by force, certainly, but the cost in lives would far outweigh the gain. As it stands, Jellal does not pose a threat to our society – certainly not one large enough to warrant us throwing away any more lives. While his cult remains holed up in that Tower, pursuing his research without causing trouble, the best option for us is to let him be."

Siegrain thought for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "I know I should be disappointed that the assault was a failure, but I will admit that I am a little relieved. I have devoted my entire life to becoming a man capable of stopping Jellal, but…"

"He's still your brother," Lahar said suddenly. "And that won't change."

"Yeah."

"And then there's the other advantage of our trip to the Tower," the councillor added. "There can be no doubt that Jellal was there. We have no shortage of witnesses who fought with him in person; who saw him bringing down our battleships with his dark magic; who can guarantee that he was definitely there on that battlefield."

Matthias butted in, "And I was here with you the entire time. I can say with one hundred percent certainty that you were in Era while Jellal was fighting our Knights in the Tower of Heaven. At last, the Council has definite proof that you and Jellal really are different people."

"I _told_ you so," Wendy reprimanded him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "If you'd just listened to me from the start…"

"It's alright, Wendy," Siegrain told her mildly. "You can hardly blame the Council for being cautious. They only did exactly what I'd have done in their place. So, what happens now?" This last question was posed to the councillor.

"Well, now you've been vindicated, I imagine things will carry on pretty much the same as usual, except you'll be on your own. Matthias can finally stop complaining and get back to doing what he does best."

"And what do you do, when you're not busy following me?"

Siegrain's politely curious question had been aimed at his colleague, but once again it was Melchior who answered. "Matthias is the very best we have; our top agent and candidate for the vacant position amongst the Ten Wizard Saints. If there's anyone you should be aiming to surpass, Siegrain, it's him."

"Is that so?" He remembered what Wendy had told him about the incredibly strong magic she had sensed from this man during their very first mission, and couldn't help but wonder what he was capable of. It didn't help that he could hardly detect any magic power emanating from him – which only went to show how good the other was to be able to conceal such strength.

Matthias gave a small shrug. "So I'm told."

"Well, now he's just being modest," Lahar overrode him crossly. "Now that's an idea. If he's way out of my league, Matthias, why don't you fight him for me? Regain the family honour?"

"Hmm." In one fluid motion Matthias reached behind him and drew his blade from its concealed sheath. As Siegrain had guessed, it was a knife, of sorts – though not like any he had seen before. Though that word was the first to spring to mind, it hardly did the weapon justice. The blade itself was a foot long with a scimitar-like curve to it; a hefty thing, several inches thick at its widest point, as good for hacking off limbs as it was for slitting throats. The main arc of the blade was serrated with wicked-looking spikes. Siegrain revised his earlier opinion once again; it was made to be used alongside physical strength, rather than as a tool for speed or stealth. Most likely, it had been designed with its future wielder in mind.

Matthias pointed the blade towards Siegrain and sighted along it, as if sizing him up. Then, in another rapid motion, he span the blade around one outstretched finger and it vanished back into its sheath. "Nah," he breezed. "I think I'll pass."

"But- but- you-" Lahar gasped, dumbfounded, leaving Siegrain to wonder whether Matthias had based his decision solely on what would get the most humorous reaction out of his poor brother.

"Besides, I don't think such a fight would be as one-sided as you're probably imagining," Matthias shrugged.

Now that was an interesting concession. He had to be joking. There was no way the man who had been charged with killing him if he turned out to be a traitor would freely admit to doubting his own ability to win in a fight – and judging by how Melchior didn't seem to be at all fazed by the agent's words, obviously the rest of them knew something that Siegrain didn't.

Guessing most of what was going through his mind, Matthias gave another hearty laugh. "Perhaps I should clarify: a _fair_ fight wouldn't be so one-sided. That's why I don't accept challenges in the arena. They tend to enforce things like _rules_ , and it's just a pain."

"Matthias's so-called 'perfect ability' makes him undefeatable," Melchior explained, amused by the whole exchange. "It's something of a legend amongst the Knights. The only assassin in our history with an absolutely perfect track record. That's your competition," he added, with an uncharacteristically cheerful grin.

"You're an assassin?" Siegrain asked. His curiosity was genuine; from first impressions, the imposing – and very noticeable – man in front of him did not seem at all like a master of stealth. Perhaps it was a bluff of sorts – hiding in plain sight, so to speak. After almost a year of having to rely on Wendy's skill to confirm the presence of this man, he wasn't about to take anything for granted.

"When I have to be. My magic lends itself particularly well to that kind of thing, so I usually get landed with those sorts of jobs. Though it's good for other things too – acting as a bodyguard, anything involving stealth or intelligence, infiltration, tracking down dark mages…"

"Is there anything it _isn't_ good for?"

Matthias considered the question for a moment. "Fighting fairly," he answered, with a grin. "If you ever need help on a job, just give me a shout. After having seen what you can do these past few months, I'd love the chance to work alongside you for a change. I've been looking forward to finally having a colleague who can keep up with me."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Siegrain replied, surprised.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small motion as Wendy shuffled restlessly. She was an incredibly patient girl, far more so than would have been expected from someone her age, and polite too – she wouldn't interrupt a discussion between men of the Council unless it was absolutely necessary. Still, that didn't change the fact that she had come all this way on her own to tell him something important.

Nor was he the only one who had noticed. As Siegrain was trying to come up with an excuse to leave with her so that they could talk in private, Melchior suddenly said, "Well, that's all I had to tell you, Siegrain. But I doubt Wendy was here for the same purpose – right, Wendy?"

Siegrain felt a flash of anger. By essentially asking her outright, the councillor was forcing her to deliver her message in front of everyone – no doubt he had noticed her hesitance earlier, and wanted to seize the chance to gain some information about Siegrain, under the disguise of innocent compassion for the young girl.

"Well…" Wendy looked at her friend, waiting for his permission to talk in front of everyone. Perhaps it was foolish of him, but he trusted her not to say anything stupid. He gave her a nod of encouragement. She continued, "I finally remembered where I'd felt that magic before."

"What magic?" he asked, not following.

"You know… when we were on the beach. When I said it was familiar, even though I'd never been there before-"

Struck by sudden understanding, he dropped into a crouch and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, regarding her intently. In the most serious tone of voice she had ever heard him use, he asked of her, "Wendy, are you _absolutely_ sure?"

Biting her lip, she gave a quick nod. She wouldn't have travelled all this way just on a whim.

He continued, "How long ago was this?"

"It was when I was travelling with my mother, so… a bit over four years, maybe?"

"I see. Do you know the name of the place where it was?"

"No…" At his look of dismay, she burst out, "But I could definitely find it again! If you have a map, or…"

To her relief, he smiled. "Okay. I trust you on this one. Thank you, Wendy." And she beamed back at him, happy that she had done something to help.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one who doesn't have a clue what's going on here," Matthias remarked, bemused.

"You're not." There was a faint iciness to the councillor's tone. "Care to explain what all this is about, Siegrain?"

"Of course." The young man stood up smoothly, still resting one hand on Wendy's shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. "What Wendy has found is the location of one of the R-Systems."

From the exclamations of shock that ran around the small group, all of them clearly knew what the word meant – well, all except Wendy, who waited patiently, knowing he would explain it to her in due time. "How certain are you?" Matthias checked. "We've been searching for these things for years without success." He cast an awkward glance at Wendy. "It's not that I don't trust her, but she could easily be mistaken."

"Wendy is never mistaken on matters like this," came his cool response, causing Wendy to squeeze his hand happily. "If she says she's found it, then she's found it. I would stake my life on it."

"Then we've got to raid it straight away!" Lahar exclaimed.

"Out of the question." Melchior overrode him before Siegrain could. "These operations require careful planning. If she's right, then this is the first lead on the R-System project that we've had in years – and it might be our only way in to this whole criminal network. In other words, we can't afford to get this wrong. If we go in unprepared, it's over."

"And of course, there's another reason why we need to wait," added Matthias, with a chuckle. "Since Wendy and Siegrain found the location in the first place, it wouldn't be right to go without them, which means waiting for Siegrain's suspension to end and his rank to be reinstated."

The dark look on Lahar's face showed exactly what he thought of that argument. Hastily, the councillor corrected, "We're going to need our best people on this, Lahar. Even if your brother helps us out, it would be madness to undertake an operation like this on a scale we haven't seen in years without Siegrain on our side."

Unconvinced, the Knight argued, "Appeal against his suspension. The Council will make an exception for a case like this."

"Absolutely, we would," agreed Melchior. "However, appealing means telling the others the reason why we need him. Councillor Byron would take charge of the operation, and we'd lose everything."

"Dealing with things like this is his job!"

"Yes – a job at which he has failed time and time again. If Byron finds out what we know he'll seize control of the raid, and like he has done every time before, he'll ignore my advice and that of others, and he'll refuse to take Siegrain along because of his paranoia about rival factions! His incompetence will screw up the mission and we'll lose the one chance we have of getting a foot in the door of the R-System scheme. If we want results, we have to do this ourselves."

Siegrain understood perfectly what the councillor was implying. This was their chance to move against Byron. If he and Melchior pulled this off without Byron finding out what they were up to, it would be an enormous blow against their enemy on the Council. On the other hand, if Byron also learned the location of the first R-System, there was every chance he would fail to secure it and let the criminals get away – but even in the best possible outcome, he would successfully take it out and get all the credit for it. They had to keep this mission a secret until his suspension was lifted and they could carry it out themselves.

Still, as someone who was not directly involved in the factional infighting amongst the Council, Lahar was not about to accept the councillors' petty squabbling as an excuse. "We're dealing with dark mages here! Leaving them alone for three months isn't just dangerous – it's irresponsible! For the safety and security of the citizens we're trying to protect, for all those who the dark mages running the project are going to harm between now and then, we need to take out this threat as soon as possible!"

To Siegrain's surprise, it was Matthias who responded, dropping his hand onto his younger brother's shoulder with a sigh. "Sweet as always, Lahar, but if you want to remain that naïve your entire life, you should have joined a guild. We have to defeat these guys and destroy the R-System, and we can't jeopardize our only chance of success for the sake of two months in which a dark guild might or might not cause trouble for ordinary people. Look at it this way: there'll be an awful lot more death and destruction if we rush in before we're ready and face defeat. Stopping the R-System is our top priority."

"…I understand," muttered the young Knight.

"Good. Come on, let's go get some lunch." Heedless to his brother's protests, Matthias began steering him towards the arena's exit. "I know how much you miss me when I'm away working…"

"Siegrain!" Wendy announced suddenly, dragging his attention away from the departing men.

"What?"

"I want to come on the mission with you."

"Okay."

"Really?"

From the way her eyes had immediately lit up, she had clearly been expecting him to refuse. He couldn't help laughing. "Of course. You're the one who found it, after all. Besides, if I'm going into a place like that, I'd rather have you at my side than a whole army of Rune Knights."

"You really mean that?"

"I sure do. But the mission probably won't be for a couple of months, though."

She shrugged. "Okay. I'll just stay with you until then."

"…No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"You can't live with me for two months, Wendy. You'd drive me insane within about a week. Plus, I can't afford to keep you, since I'm not getting paid while I'm suspended, and sleeping on the sofa for that long would probably inflict permanent damage to my spine. Besides, how do you think your Guild Master would feel about you moving out of the guild?"

"Oh… he'd probably miss me quite a lot."

"That's an understatement. He'd be convinced I'd kidnapped you, and probably put a warrant out for my arrest. You need to go back to your guild for the time being. I'll let you know when we've decided on a date, and then I'll come and pick you up on the way once we start. Okay?"

"Okay! You promise?"

"Promise." Grinning, she did a little excited dance on the spot, prompting him to roll his eyes. "Say, Wendy, what are you going to do now?"

"Go home, I guess?"

"Already?"

She shrugged, baffled by his reaction. "Well, I only came here to tell you that."

So she had come all that way on the train to deliver her message, and she wasn't even going to pester him to spend some time with her in return? He should probably have been relieved, but he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. "You don't have to be back at Cait Shelter until tonight, right?" he asked impulsively, and she nodded. "Then there's no need to leave just yet. How about we go look round the market?"

"Yeah!" she cheered.

"Alright. I need to talk to the councillor for a moment, so go and wait for me outside the arena, and I'll meet you in a few minutes, okay?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Wendy dashed towards the exit, while Melchior looked on bemusedly. Once she was out of earshot, he turned to Siegrain with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I can't tell if agreeing to let her come makes you a really caring big brother, or a really irresponsible one."

"Oh, shut up."

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about, exactly?"

He took a moment or two to gather his thoughts. "This is going to be a big job. If we want to make it look legitimate at all, we'll need to work with the Rune Knights."

"Naturally."

"I want you to bring Lahar's unit in on it."

"That's Captain Bartley's division, is it not?" At Siegrain's nod, the councillor's tone only became more puzzled. "Why? Bartley hates you! He hasn't stopped complaining about you since you started working for us! That isn't going to change, just because you've been officially acquitted."

"I know. He's not the issue here, however. Lahar is." He gave a grim smile at the other's confusion. "He's a good man, and good men are problematic. By not informing Byron immediately about the R-System, we're openly in violation of Council protocol. Given that Lahar already believes we should be acting on this information as quickly as possible for moral reasons, there's every chance that he'll feel legally bound to report that little bit of knowledge to his commanding officer – being Captain Bartley. And Bartley, in turn, will most likely convey it to Byron in an attempt to gain favour with the councillor. And that will ruin our plans."

"True."

"So if you get to Bartley first, and get him in on the mission, then, with the promise of credit and prestige if we and his unit successfully pull off the raid, he'll stand to gain more if it remains a secret than he will by turning us in and handing over command to Byron. In that way, Lahar can report us if he wants, keeping a clear conscience, and Bartley won't act on it, in order to further his own interests."

"Very well, I'll bring him in. Bartley's a capable man, and he shouldn't cause us too much of a problem if you stay out of his way, especially since I'll be there as well to keep an eye on things. I am curious, though. I am _on_ the Council, after all – why not just ask me to order Lahar to keep quiet about the mission?"

A small smile crossed his face. "Because, Councillor, while I am as curious as the next man to find out whether Lahar's conscience or his loyalty would win out in such a situation, I don't believe it's wise to play such a game when we have so much at stake here."

"I can't say I disagree with you there. Alright; I'm happy to follow your lead on this one, Siegrain. After all this planning, you'd better be able to take down the R-System."

"I won't let you down, Councillor," came his easy response. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to leave the finer details of the plan to you. I'm going shopping."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** At long last, I finally have some more characters to play around with! Trying to imagine a younger Lahar was surprisingly difficult - especially when he's going to go through as much as Jellal or Wendy by the end of the story. The intention was that he would grow through this to become more like his canon self by the end; I'm not sure if I'll actually manage this, or if I'll just get used to him being this way. It doesn't really help when he appears more in this story than he ever does in canon..._

 _I hope you like Matthias, or at least don't mind him. He's not a massively unique character, but I think he is a pretty good counter to Jellal, who is generally very serious when he's acting as Siegrain. He's fun to write with, which was obviously the most important thing as far as I'm concerned!_

 _And speaking of Jellal - sure, he's still scheming, but it seems he's actually starting to open up to other people, not just Wendy. Now that he's been cleared of all suspicion, he's no longer under constant pressure, and with a major mission coming up to occupy his attention, things might just be looking good for the future... Next week, chapter length will return to normal. I can't cope with this much extra work each week! ~CS_


	11. The Voices Carla Heard

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-The Voices Carla Heard-**

"Wendy! Come see what I've found!"

Master Roubaul's voice cut through the gentle ambience of the village, carrying the innocent words that were, once again, going to turn Wendy's life upside down.

The girl in question jumped immediately to her feet at that call. She quickly located her Guild Master, who was waving at her from the entrance to the settlement's largest hut, and she dashed over with her usual boundless enthusiasm. He beckoned her inside without a word of explanation.

Most of the guild was already assembled within. No one noticed her enter; a single object held all the attention in the room. Sat on the rug, from upon which Roubaul would have made all his formal declarations as Guild Master and received official guests from the Council, was a large egg. It was far too big to have come from any bird they knew – and far too beautiful. No one had ever seen anything like it before. Pearly-white, and patterned with streaks of colour evocative of candle flames or perhaps even wings, it matched perfectly the tribal surroundings of Cait Shelter – as if it belonged here.

"I found it in the forest," Roubaul continued, moving up to stand behind Wendy. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," came her honest reply. "Is it alive?"

"I believe so."

Anything else he might have said was abruptly cut off as a crack appeared in the egg. Wendy's eyes widened. "It's breaking!" she shouted, in a panic, only to freeze as her Guild Master rested his hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't worry. It's only hatching."

And the entire room watched with bated breath as more cracks spread across the egg's marbled surface. Wendy, who had never seen anything like it before, could hardly contain her excitement. What could be born from an egg like that? An enormous bird? A dragon? Or maybe a giant lizard, like the one she had encountered while travelling with Siegrain? She had always wondered where monsters like that came from. Maybe she'd be able to explain it to him next time they went on an adventure-

Or maybe not, because as it happened the thing which hatched from the egg was about as far from the monstrous creatures that she and Siegrain sometimes hunted as it was possible to get. It was, in fact, a cat. A little white cat with little white wings. It – no, _she_ – sat silently amidst the shards of the eggshell, blinking at her surroundings.

"Awh-!" Wendy let out a strangled sound that was somewhere between a gasp and an exclamation of joy; there were no words that could do justice to how she felt in that moment. Her eyes shone with such brilliant love. Roubaul's firm hand on her shoulder was the only thing stopping her from charging over and sweeping the cat up in her arms. He thought it perhaps prudent for Wendy to keep her distance, rather than overwhelming the newborn creature even more. She had enough to deal with, opening her eyes and seeing the world and all its colours and sights and sounds and sensations for the very first time-

And no sooner had that thought crossed his mind than the cat began to scream.

A shiver ran down Roubaul's spine. That wasn't the healthy cry of a newborn baby. That was a scream of pure terror.

Nor was he the only one who recognized it for what it was. At his side there was a sharp intake of breath as Wendy's wide-eyed wonder became a look of fear – fear, but not for herself. An instant later, she had broken free of his grasp and was racing across the room. Wendy lifted the little cat as gently as she could and cradled her protectively to her chest. Her eyes sought out the adults in the room, looking for help.

Roubaul understood. "Wendy! Bring her to the medical tent!" he commanded, and she obeyed immediately, following him across the campsite at a run.

As soon as they entered the healer's tent, the old man lifted the wailing cat out of Wendy's arms. "Wendy, wait outside."

"But-"

"Outside! Now!"

She knew better than to argue when he used that tone. It was probably best that she let the adults take care of the situation. Master Roubaul would know how to help that little cat. Besides, she knew he would come and fetch her if her healing powers were needed.

Not that that made the waiting any easier. She sat on the ground outside the tent, listening to those heart-breaking screams that the thick fabric couldn't quite muffle, as if by doing so she could somehow share the pain that the cat was going through, and alleviate her suffering just a little.

She tried to convince herself that everything was going to work out. Master Roubaul would make everything okay. There was nothing he couldn't do. Maybe this was normal behaviour for winged cats. Babies cried a lot, didn't they? So maybe she was reading too much into it and that was just the normal sound that winged cats made when they hatched.

But she couldn't quite bring herself to believe it, and all that day, as she kept her steadfast vigil outside the healer's tent, she cried for the sake of one she hardly knew.

* * *

"Carla! I brought some books! There are adventure stories and mystery stories and even a book on identifying wild plants, but I only brought that because Master Roubaul said I should do something productive with this time. I'd much rather just read the stories-"

 _No._

"Carla! I brought you some blackberries! I picked them myself this morning. I know where all the best spots are, see? Maybe next time we can go out berry-picking together-"

 _Shut up._

"Carla! Look, I got some watercolour paints! This is going to be really fun-"

 _Go away._

"Carla! Master Roubaul lent me some playing cards! Here, I'll teach you how to play clock patience, then you'll have something to do even when I'm not around-"

 _Leave me alone._

"Carla! Did I ever tell you about that time I nearly got eaten by a giant lizard? No? Well, I was in the forest-"

 _Can't you see you're not wanted here?_

"Carla! Will you help me do this jigsaw? There's a thousand pieces so it'll be much faster if we work together-"

 _How stupid are you?_

"Carla! I made a skirt for you! Oh, you don't like it? That's okay. It was my first time sewing something completely by myself, so it's not very good. But I'm going to get better at it, just wait and see! Tell me what your favourite colour is, and I'll make something you like-"

 _Why is this so difficult for that girl to understand?_

 _I don't want your presents. I don't want to do things with you. I want you to shut up and leave me alone. It hurts less when I'm alone._

But no. It was always the same, day after day after day. Why would today be any different?

"Carla! This time, I've really got it! You're a cat, right? And cats like fish! So let's go down to the river and catch some fish!"

Over and over and over again. That horrible, persistent voice; so hatefully cheerful. The loudness of it triggered another wave of headaches. That stupid girl, so carelessly happy, oblivious to the fact that her every thoughtless word only amplified the pain. She screwed her eyes shut and clamped her paws over her ears and waited for the nauseating rush of colour and sound to die away, leaving her shaking and gasping for breath.

"Master Roubaul always has a nap at this time in the afternoon," Wendy chatted on. "We could nip into his tent, grab his fishing rod, head down to the river, catch some fish, and be back before he even knows we're gone!"

 _This is why I hate humans. I hate them I hate them I hate them._

She couldn't shut out that voice, no matter how hard she tried. Even when the inside of the tent that was all she had known for the past month faded into exotic sights and sounds and the words of the dead and that island shattering and _the mission_ and the pain that wasn't hers and the bodies of those like her falling from the sky-

Even then, that infuriating high-pitched voice cut through all of it, dragging her back to _this_ world, to this stupid tent, to the place where the _humans_ lived, rather than the place where she belonged. It hurt so much, that voice. And no matter what she did, she couldn't stop it. She couldn't stop any of it. Not the island in the sky from shattering every time she closed her eyes. Not the final declaration of war, that resonated in her ears over and over when she woke up. And not Wendy either. No matter how much she begged and pleaded and threatened and cried, she couldn't get Wendy to shut up.

"Well? What do you want to think? It's a good plan, right?"

"Go yourself."

"…Oh." The light in the girl's eyes dimmed, but there was only the briefest moment of reprieve before that annoying voice was back, drowning out the sound of the mission being whispered into her ear. "That's okay, I get it. You can leave this to me! I promise that when I come back, I'll have caught a fish for you!"

She said nothing. She just kept staring straight ahead. This time, Wendy must have got the message, because the next time she looked, she was alone.

* * *

Finally. Some peace and quiet. Slowly, the throbbing in her head began to abate. The tightness around her chest loosened. She took a deep breath and let it out again, and when the sharp pain she was expecting didn't come, she inhaled again, nervously starting to let her muscles relax.

 _See how much better things are when she isn't here?_

No pain. No dissociation. It was still and quiet and wonderful. She had never known such serenity – because that annoying girl and her persistent voice had never disappeared from her waking life for longer than a few minutes at a time before. But at last she was gone. All was right with the world. In the absence of pain, it felt like she was floating.

This time, it was going to work.

 _This time, the silence will remain._

She closed her eyes for a long moment. Nothing moved in the warm stillness behind her eyelids. She felt her heart fluttering, picking up the pace in anticipation; in fear. No – there was no need for fear. She was finally alone; at last she had the chance to be free of this pain and _this time it was going to work._

Drawing upon her courage, she opened her eyes once more – to be greeted by an unchanged scene. The white tepee. The pale sunlight that made it through the thick fabric. The dry earth. The rug beneath her. It was solid, firm, stable. Good. Exactly as she remembered. She was in control. The agony that the girl's presence brought her still didn't come; still she floated in the warm dizziness and still it was working. She had known everything would work out if only she could get the girl to leave. She was right here.

 _Is here where I'm supposed to be?_

With that shadow of a doubt came the first twinge of pain.

 _No no NO NO!_

And she pushed it away with all her resolve. _It was working._ She was supposed to be here. She had closed her eyes in the tent and opened them again, still in this-

Tent? That was a foolish thought. Only humans lived in primitive dwellings like that. She was stood in front of a crowed of others like her, exactly where she was supposed to be, with her white wings outstretched like those of an angel. Before her, a settlement full of only her people. Houses, streets, security. Behind her, an enormous palace. Power, royalty. This was where she belonged.

"My people, it is as we feared." She knew what she was going to say before she even said it. How many times had she given this very same speech in this very same location? "The humans are going to declare war upon our homeland. They plot the eradication of the Exceed. There is only one thing that we can do. As your Queen, I propose-"

 _But she doesn't call me Queen. She calls me Carla._

For a moment, there were two scenes superimposed upon her vision: a village full of people like her and a tent constructed by human hands. The dark eagerness of the cheering crowd rang out hollow in the empty tent.

 _Which one am I?_

There was nothing, and then, suddenly, there was something, like a lightning strike in the dead of night. It was a feeling she knew well. First, the splitting pain as her head was torn in two. Then the shocks which ran through her body. The brief moment of rest – the cold sweat, the prickling, the trembling, the false hope that she fell for every single time, that this time it really _was_ gone – and then the realization that she couldn't move her limbs, and the world was collapsing in around her and she couldn't stop it and she opened her mouth and screamed and screamed and screamed.

* * *

" _Wendy? Wake up."_

 _A hand gave her shoulder a gentle shake, and she opened her eyes with a reluctant murmur. She had fallen asleep still sat outside the medical tent, lying on her side in the dirt. She pushed herself into a sitting position and the soft orange sky returned to its usual place overhead; in the distance, the sun was setting. She had been out there for almost the entire day. The ache of being still for so long, of falling asleep on the unforgiving dry earth, throbbed in her muscles, yet her first action the instant she came awake was to turn to the one who had woken her and ask, "Is she going to be okay?"_

 _Roubaul gave a sigh. Ignoring the creak of his old bones, he sat down cross-legged beside her. "I don't know, Wendy," said he. He was not about to pretend that everything was alright – he knew she would see through him in an instant. No matter how much it hurt her, he was going to be honest, so that she was prepared for the worst if it came to pass._

" _Physically, there's nothing wrong with her," he explained. "Well, not as far as I can tell, though I can't say anything for certain when I don't even know what species she is. She's a completely healthy little winged kitten. But…"_

" _But?" Wendy asked. She had to know, even if she didn't want to._

" _There's something wrong in her mind. She sees things that aren't really there, and they're scaring her and causing her pain."_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _I'm not entirely sure. I've been observing her closely over the past few hours, and all her fits have been preceded by episodes of her eyes focussing on things that aren't in the room, or her reacting to sounds that only she can hear. It's as if she's constantly in the grip of a waking nightmare, only coming out of it for infrequent periods of lucidity, where she calms down a little. Perhaps they are recollections from a past life; memories that aren't hers. Perhaps they are visions, of a sort. Whatever it is, she has just been born into this world, which is overwhelming enough, but on top of that she perceives two worlds – one real, and one imaginary. It is no wonder she is suffering."_

" _Do you think… that she can get better?"_

 _He tapped his fingers upon the ground thoughtfully. "It's possible. By the time I left, she seemed to have started to recognize me. Before she fell asleep, she even called me by name."_

" _She can talk?" Wendy demanded, amazed – though, given that it was a flying cat who had hatched out of an egg that they were talking about, it probably shouldn't have been all that surprising._

" _A little, but she's learning. She's very intelligent. I can only imagine that she was in that egg for a long time in the forest, waiting for someone to find her so that she could hatch safely. Not to mention, if she truly does possess memories that aren't her own, it could explain how she is learning so quickly."_

 _To reassure her, he added, "And it's a good sign. If she can tell that I am distinct from the things she's seeing in her head, then there's a chance that with time she'll be able to separate the real world from whatever else she's perceiving and… as you put it, get better."_

 _Wendy stood up, unconsciously brushing the dirt from her dress. "What can I do to help?"_

 _There was a fierce resolve in her eyes – a resolve he had only ever seen before when she was with Siegrain. He understood in that instant that there was nothing she wouldn't do for that tiny little cat she had fallen in love with at first sight, even if it meant travelling to the ends of the earth to find the rare cure for her illness. He couldn't help smiling. His precious daughter was a truly wonderful girl._

" _The best thing you can do, Wendy, is be her friend."_

" _Her friend…?" Wendy echoed, mystified, as if she had been genuinely expecting the ends-of-the-earth quest._

" _Yes. Right now, she is confused and alone and afraid. For her, there is no difference between dreams and reality. Loud noises, open spaces, and new people in particular seem to be the biggest real-world triggers for her attacks, meaning that she needs to be kept apart from daily life in the guild. However, I fear that if we merely leave her alone and hope she grows out of it, she never will break free of those constant nightmares. She needs someone to be there with her. She needs a rock of stability – someone she will recognize; someone who will help her to distinguish between what is real and what is not. Someone who can teach her and support her and just be a friend to her. Can you do that, Wendy?"_

" _Yes! I can definitely do that!"_

" _It won't be easy. She's suffering for reasons that we can't understand or empathize with, so you will have to be extremely patient with her-"_

" _I can do it!"_

 _Roubaul smiled. He had never doubted that that would be her answer. "In that case, you have to give her a name."_

 _Wendy's eyes widened. "Me?"_

" _Of course. She doesn't have any parents, so I think that honour should go to her best friend, don't you?"_

 _A broad smile spread across Wendy's face. "Yeah! Then I'm going to call her… Carla."_

* * *

It was some time later that she became aware she was lying on her side on top of the handwoven rug where she lived most of her life. She stared at it, too close to bring the intricate pattern into focus. It was something made by human hands. Would the entirety of her floating island look like this, when the hateful humans wiped out her race and destroyed everything beautiful about her home? Or maybe that had already happened. Maybe this was the world built by humans in the ruins of the island shattering again and again and again.

And the instant she thought it, it became real: she looked skyward, where the tip of the tepee should have been, and saw instead two floating islands smashing together in the endless blue. With it came another wave of pain, and both images vanished into a world of black and red fractals as her head split apart and agony buried like knives into her exposed brain.

 _Focus. Got to focus._

Somehow, she managed to get to her feet. She needed something to concentrate on – something that would keep her rooted firmly in reality. She didn't much care which reality, as long as it was only one of them. The jigsaw puzzle! If she could find that, surely such a mind-numbing task as that would help her push away the pain.

An image of Wendy placing the box down on the ground flashed through her mind, but when she looked, it wasn't there. Maybe that hadn't happened yet. No, it must have happened. She remembered sitting in silence, stubbornly refusing to join in, as Wendy patiently put the entire puzzle together by herself, all thousand pieces of it, chatting away inanely about nothing in particular the entire time. Then afterwards, when she had refused to even look at the finished picture, Wendy had packed it away again and taken it with her when she left. She never came back.

No. Of course she had come back. She always came back. Every morning, without fail. Those were the certainties of every single day: the island would shatter, she would declare the start of the war against the humans, the mission would begin, and Wendy would arrive with her infuriating smile and that voice which hurt so much. It was always the same.

Except… it wasn't, was it?

Every time Wendy came to visit, she brought something different to do: a new story, a new game, a new kind of food.

But every time the island shattered, it happened in the exact same way. Every time she gave that speech denouncing the destructive acts of humankind, she used the same words, to the same reaction of the crowd. Every time she flew over her home, she took the same route, and the wind blew from the same direction, and the sun always held the same place in the sky.

She recalled something that an old man had said a long time ago, or maybe it was tomorrow. _"The visions don't change. The real world does. Remember that, Carla."_

It seemed like good advice. If she ever found Carla, she'd be sure to pass it on.

But maybe, just maybe, it might be of some use to her as well. Wendy was change and change was real. If she wanted to find the real world, she needed to find Wendy.

So where was she now? Why wasn't she here?

 _Maybe she's dead. She's a Dragon Slayer, after all, and only yesterday I gave the order that we have to go to the other world and kill the Dragon Slayers._

Good. That way, her homeland would be safe. She would no longer have to put up with all the unwanted pain that being around that girl brought her. She could finally wake up from this dream of the human world and go back to the real world, the place of her people, the place where she belonged.

 _Wait. Isn't Wendy's world the real one?_

And again she saw two images at once and neither of them had Wendy in and she curled up into a ball and whimpered and prayed that the pain might go away.

 _I don't know who I am or where I'm supposed to be. But when Wendy gets back, she'll tell me, like she always does._

 _When Wendy… gets back._

 _When…_

But Wendy had never been gone for this long before. Never had she been left alone for this much time. That was new, so it must be real. But that didn't make it good. What if she wasn't coming back this time? There were people trying to kill her, since she was a Dragon Slayer. It would be nice and quiet if Wendy died, and maybe it would prevent the destruction of her homeland as well, but then she'd never know who she was supposed to be.

 _I've got to find her._

And that meant going outside. Slowly, she crept towards the tent flap across a great rolling field of emerald grass. She pulled back the fabric, wondering which world lay beyond – and, as it happened, neither of them did.

Outside the tent was hell. There was no other word to describe the maelstrom of sights and sounds and smells. A thousand different voices called to each other between the tents. Humans, everywhere, rushing back and forth with no purpose other than to fill the space. The hardness of the trodden earth; the vibrant blue of the sky; the tallness of the people; the brightly painted tents; the chaos of life – all at once, it was far too much. She bunched the fabric of the tent flap in her paws, using it to support the weight of her shaking body.

The newness of it was terrifying; also, reassuring. So big and so vast was the world she saw before her that it drowned out the memory of the destroyed island. She hated it – the way it violated her senses and impressed itself so strongly upon her mind – but it was so overwhelming that there could only possibly be one world and it was the one she saw before her. She was not indecisive; her dislike drove her forwards. If it was fear that made the world real, then so be it. If that was how she could distinguish between what was real and what was not then she would embrace it, and suffer through this new kind of pain until she had Wendy back again.

She knew how to find the old man who was in charge. Once, the Queen had drawn her a map of the settlement, along with stick drawings of the people who lived in each tent. Or maybe Wendy had drawn the map. It wasn't really important. She ran straight for the biggest hut. The ground beneath her paws was a stony path; sharp and painful. She was used to running endlessly through the meadows of her island home, after all – but the contrast just meant that this was new and probably still real. She had never been outside the tent before in this world. She had never felt the wind rippling through her fur, except for all those times she had soared in the sky above the islands-

She burst into a room that was reassuringly quiet. There was only one human in it; the old man who looked at her with something that might have been astonishment.

A voice that might have been her own: "Where's Wendy?"

"I thought she was with you."

"She went away."

"Where?"

"She went… I think… I think it may have been to fight in the war."

"Carla. Did she say anything to you, before she left?"

"She said… she said… she was going to go and do something for me… but she's in danger! They're after the Dragon Slayers! The mission… you have to warn her!"

"I will, but in order to do that, I need you to tell me where she is, Carla. Please, try to remember. I know that you can."

"I… I don't… maybe… maybe she went fishing?"

"I'll go to the river and look for her. Stay here, Carla."

"Very well. If I see Carla, I'll tell her. Was she one of the children I sent away?"

But the other voice had fallen silent. In the emptiness, there was nothing at all to hold on to; nothing to stop the familiar dissociation from creeping up on her. The walls, the ceiling, the island – they had all dissolved back into that world of meaningless colours through which she drifted, wondering who she was and who she had been before. She longed for the old, familiar pain to cut through the haze and give her something to cling on to-

"Carla! Carla!"

She looked up with a start at that shout. She was outside with no knowledge of how she had got there, and she realized several things at once. The sun was low in an orange-dyed sky; most of the day had disappeared since she had last spoken to Wendy. She was stood in front of the largest hut in the village where she lived, the one belonging to Master Roubaul, the leader of this tribe of humans. That was the name of man approaching her now, with Wendy at his side.

And she was the one they were calling out to, because she was Carla, wasn't she?

"Carla, I'm sorry I was gone for so long." There was anguish in the girl's face as she ran up to her. "Turns out, fishing is _really_ boring. I fell asleep and I'd probably still be there now if Master Roubaul hadn't come and found me. I'm really sorry!"

She said nothing. She just kept staring. Wendy was so easy to understand when she spoke. That girl was so obviously, loudly, unequivocally real, and the self-evidence of it banished all the ghostly voices from her mind. Just like this outside world was so ferociously overwhelming that it could suppress the sight of the island shattering, so too was Wendy so insistent on existing that the world in her head had no choice but to accept the girl as reality. Even as the familiar pain of being drawn out of that other place and forced to remain firmly in one world stabbed into her, tears pricked at the corner of her eye, and they were tears of sheer relief.

"And after all that I didn't even manage to get you any fish. I know I promised that I would definitely bring fish next time I saw you, so I'm going to go back out tomorrow and I'm not going to stop trying until I've caught one! I'm prepared for the boredom now, you see. I've come up with all sorts of ways of keeping myself awake-"

She spoke up, timidly. "I don't… I don't want to be on my own again…"

"Well, that's okay! Maybe Master Roubaul will go out and get us some fish. I'll stay in the village with you and we can-"

"Or maybe we could… we could both go fishing together…"

For a moment Wendy just stared at her in disbelief, and then an enormous smile spread across her face; a true joy that didn't exist in the nightmare where the island shattered and the humans went to war. Because that's what it was – a nightmare. This place, with this annoying girl, was the real world; the place where she belonged. The other was just a vision. Those memories didn't belong to her.

 _She repeats my name over and over to make sure I don't forget who I am._

 _She brings me books and tells me stories so that I can learn all about the world, even though I'm too scared to go out there and see it for myself._

 _She always thinks of new things for us to do to give me more and more memories of the real world, so that I can distinguish it from the other things that I see._

 _She has been there almost every waking moment from the day I hatched, so that I never have to face those nightmares alone._

 _She's the most annoying, most wonderful person I have ever met, and I choose the world with her in it over any possible world without._

"It's not that I want to spend time with you or anything," she added, glancing away. "But when you're around, it's easier to tell what's real and what isn't, and…"

"Yeah," beamed Wendy. "Let's go together."

* * *

And after that day, things began to change. Having chosen the world in which she wanted to live, Carla began to fight the visions which had once dominated her mind. Whenever she needed support, Wendy was always there, with a smile and unending patience. First the nightmares were relegated to the times when she was asleep, and then they stopped altogether. Now that it was no longer needed to pull her out of the grip of that illusory world, Wendy's voice stopped causing her pain, invoking memories of the times they had spent together instead of the ghost of dissociation.

With Wendy's help, she began to venture outside more. At first they did things alone – picking berries together, or fishing, or going on walks, or bird-spotting, or even finding a secluded spot in the forest where Carla could practise flying and Wendy could work on casting her support magic. It was a lot easier on Carla in quiet places where the world was less overwhelming. But, slowly, Wendy began to introduce her to other members of the guild, and the cat's little circle of friends – of people she could feel safe around – expanded until it encompassed the entire village. They helped out with cooking in the guild; they did chores together; they even participated in one of Cait Shelter's great rowdy feasts, and it was after Carla celebrated with the guild for the entire night without once experiencing a panic attack that she realized things had changed.

No – _she_ had changed. Slowly but surely, the voices in her head had been replaced by the voices of the living. The memories of a different life had been overwritten by her own cherished experiences. The early days of her life that she had spent slipping in and out of a waking nightmare were firmly behind her. This was who she was and this was where she belonged.

"I am Carla. I'm a member of the mage guild Cait Shelter. And I'm Wendy's best friend."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Because I had to bring Carla into the story at some point, and doing another "here's the new character" chapter would just be too boring. I don't even know where this chapter came from, or why. Weird things happen when I sit down to write a necessary event with literally no ideas about how to tackle it. Anyway, that somewhat surreal diversion aside, Jellal will resume his role as narrator again next week for a significantly more normal chapter! ~CS_


	12. Please Don't Go

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Please Don't Go-**

 **November, X781**

The first raindrop hit the ground with a solid smack. One dark circle appeared on the parched and dusty earth, a good few centimetres in diameter. Another followed it, and then another, each swollen raindrop breaking apart with such force that an observer would have been forgiven for thinking it an early hailstorm.

Or so Roubaul thought anyway, as he watched the great storm pick up pace from the safety of his hut. Though the summer had long since ended on the calendar, the stormy season which brought rejuvenation to the land had persisted well into autumn, increasing in intensity in the build-up to this, the final rainstorm of the year. He had lived here for a long time; he knew this land and its climate like no one else alive. It had been a long, hot summer, perfect for a certain young girl who loved to explore the outside world, and so it was fitting that the storm to officially declare it over would be just as intense.

Not that it stopped the familiar worry from picking up inside him as, in a matter of seconds, the rain became so heavy that he could barely make out the entrance to the village. Of course, as usual, his fears were completely unfounded. Through the curtain of rain a blurry shape was approaching; above the distant thunder came a familiar shout: "Faster, Wendy, faster!"

A smile crept across the old man's face as the shape grew in detail and finally resolved into two beings: a white-winged cat flying bravely through the downpour, and a girl running after her, an upturned wicker basket held over her head as a makeshift umbrella. The two of them charged straight towards him. Standing to one side, he held the door open to allow both of them to dive in at full speed, and then swung it shut again, sealing it against the elements with the efficiency that came from years of practice.

"Maybe next time I tell you to be back in the guild by midday, you will be," he reprimanded the two girls, but his cross tone of voice was somewhat undermined by the fact that he had already prepared towels and a dry change of clothes for the two of them.

"Sorry!" Wendy responded, with a sheepish smile. "We were looking for frogs down at the creek and completely lost track of the time…"

Roubaul rolled his eyes, folding his arms in mock annoyance. "Make sure to dry yourselves properly. It'll be cold tonight, now that the storm has finally broken, and I don't want either of you catching a chill."

Wendy gave him a determined nod, taking the towel to her sodden hair with extra enthusiasm. "I have to be fit for tomorrow, after all!"

"Why?" Carla inquired. "What's going on tomorrow?"

"You didn't tell her?" Roubaul asked of Wendy, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Wendy averted her gaze. "I, uh… I never really found a good time…"

He understood. The two of them were together practically every moment of every day. And while Carla's condition had improved remarkably in the two months or so that they had been together – she hadn't experienced a single attack now in over three weeks, and was perfectly happy chatting to other members of the guild and running errands on her own – he could see why Wendy might feel inclined to keep putting off telling Carla about the promise she had made. It was to be the first day of Carla's life without Wendy in it, after all, and it was understandable that she would be nervous about bringing up something like that. Of course, that sort of childish procrastination would only make things worse when she finally did get round to telling Carla, and now the day was almost upon them.

"What's going on, Wendy?" There was a touch of accusation in the cat's voice now, and Wendy felt a wave of guilt that she hadn't mustered her courage and broached the subject sooner.

"The thing is, Carla… tomorrow, I have to go away for a while." She paused for a moment to wring some of the rainwater out of the soaked towel. "I made a promise to Siegrain, and the day has finally come."

"You're… going away?"

"There's something I've got to do." As the cat narrowed her eyes, she explained, "A group of bad guys are trying to create a weapon of dark magic, and I'm going to help stop them. The mission has been planned for months – I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't want to worry you."

Her voice was full of honest apology. Carla was not so easy to read. She asked, with perfect neutrality, "How long are you going away for?"

"Well… the raid itself should only last a day, if everything goes to plan, but if we decide to attack under cover of night or something then it'll be too late for me to come home afterwards so I might end up staying overnight with Siegrain again. So maybe two days… but you'll be okay for that long without me, right? Master Roubaul and everyone else will still be here in the guild, so you won't be alone."

"Why?"

"Why…?"

"Why do you have to go? Can't you just stay here?"

"Not really." Wendy gave a smile. "There are lots of reasons why I have to go. I haven't seen Siegrain in _ages_ and I want to go on an adventure with him again. But more importantly than that, I'm a guild mage, and I'm proud to help the Magic Council. The dark guilds cause trouble and hurt people, so it's my job to help stop them in any way I can."

"But why _you_ , though? It's the Council's job. You don't even work for them. And it sounds like this Siegrain guy you're always talking about can deal with it himself, if he's really as powerful as you say…"

She shook her head, resolute. "Siegrain really can't look after himself, and he'll get into all sorts of trouble if I'm not there to keep an eye on him. Besides, I have to go. I made a promise, after all."

"But you also made me a promise," Carla retorted. "You promised me we'd be together forever. Or was that a lie?"

"No! I meant it, but… just not, you know, every minute of every day… I'm only going to be away for a couple of days, and I'll come back as soon as I can…" Her voice tailed off. To the young cat, a day or two alone might as well have been forever. Wendy was her rock of stability; the one around whom her entire life revolved; the only family she had ever known.

"Do you like him more than me? Is that it?"

"Of course not!"

"I thought _I_ was your best friend, Wendy!"

"Well… can't I have two best friends? One boy and one girl best friend – that's okay, isn't it?"

"…He really is more important to you than I am, isn't he?"

"That's not true, Carla!"

"Then prove it. Stay here with me."

The two stared at each other for a long minute. "I… I'm sorry, Carla," Wendy whispered, close to tears. "I do love you, but… I'm going on the mission with Siegrain."

"You…"

An authoritative voice interrupted her. "Well, if you two girls are dry, how about you go and help chop the vegetables for dinner tonight?" Roubaul could no longer stand by and watch the two girls fighting – not when his own precious daughter was so upset.

At the sight of his stern face, the two of them scurried along without a word to each other, and he couldn't help but worry as he watched them go. With any luck, the chores would take their minds off the argument and they would be able to sort things out between themselves. It was the only thing he could think of that might help.

As far as he was concerned, the arrival of that little cat into her life had been the best thing that had ever happened to Wendy. This was a friend who she loved and who loved her in return; someone who she could grow alongside, and who could support her in a way that Roubaul himself could not. Unlike with Siegrain, there was no chance of Carla being a bad influence or leading his daughter into trouble. He felt a lot happier knowing that Wendy had Carla in her life.

He felt a strong temptation to forbid Wendy from going out tomorrow, thus forcing her to choose Carla over Siegrain. Carla's happiness if she stayed might just be the deciding factor that Roubaul had been lacking the last time he had tried to stop her from accompanying Siegrain. If Wendy picked the little cat over that man, it would be her choice. Siegrain could complain and threaten all he wanted, but he wouldn't be able to change her mind, and he wouldn't gain anything from revealing Roubaul's secret as it would have no impact on the friendship between the girls.

On the other hand… Wendy had been looking forward to this trip with Siegrain for months. She loved Carla dearly, but that young man was her first and best friend, and taking someone so precious away from her would only end badly. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel hurt or betrayed by someone she trusted. This was something that she had to decide for herself, and he wouldn't interfere more than he absolutely had to. She was growing up, that girl – and far too quickly for his liking.

Outside, the torrential downpour continued without any sign of abating, and the thundering of the raindrops upon the ground did nothing to ease the Guild Master's troubled thoughts.

* * *

Later that night, when the moon had risen somewhere beyond the blanket of pitch-black clouds, Carla stood alone at the entrance to her and Wendy's tent, looking out into the rain. Not a single spark of light escaped from any of the other dwellings in the camp. The villagers slept restlessly that night; the endless pounding of the raindrops on canvas drove deep into their subconscious. The thought that she might be the only one awake at this hour sent a shiver running through Carla's fur.

"I'm scared," she whispered, and it was not the night to which she spoke, but the dawn it promised. "I don't want to be left on my own again. I don't want the nightmares to return. If Wendy leaves, I know I'll see them again – the shattering island, the Queen and her awful speech, the others like me. I don't want to go back to that place. I don't know if I can ever come back here if I do."

The rain came down without end. The night showed her no compassion. She insisted to it, "If Wendy leaves me, how can I fight it? How will I know what is real and what is only in my head? How will I know who I am?"

And then, ever so quietly, "I'm too scared to be alone…"

She glanced over her shoulder, to where Wendy lay in a troubled sleep. Her brow was furrowed; she tossed and turned anxiously but did not wake. Carla felt a twinge of guilt, but when she looked out into the dark, dark night, she remembered the terrible touch of the nightmares and the horror of that paralyzing pain, and the fear numbed everything else.

"I'm sorry, Wendy…"

And, closing her eyes against the pouring rain, she ran out into the night and did not look back.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and early. The storm had burnt itself out overnight; now, not a single cloud marred the beautiful blue sky. In its wake, the forest seemed to have come alive. Drops of dew glittered on the last of the red-gold leaves. The ground was soft from all the rain, but the grass sprung back keenly underfoot. It was not too cold yet to temper the birds' joyful songs, and the forest rustled with the sounds of the wildlife faithfully making their preparations for the winter.

Perhaps it came as a result of observing this subconsciously as he walked through the forest, or perhaps there was no real reason for it at all, but Siegrain was in an unusually good mood as he made his way to Cait Shelter. He was in good shape, he felt powerful, and for the first time in over three months, he was actually going to be able to _do_ something. Switching with his illusory clone and darting to and from the Tower was far too easy to be any fun now that he had been cleared of all suspicion. Raiding another R-System alongside Wendy and the Council's forces would be a proper test of his abilities – and he had been greatly looking forward to it.

In fact, he was in such a good mood that this day had finally come that he didn't even mind that he wasn't on his own. Wendy excluded, he wasn't sure there had ever been another time since the Tower had fallen to him that he had preferred being with another person to being alone.

"Is there really a guild so far out in the middle of nowhere?" Matthias wondered aloud.

"There is. Surely you must have come out here when you were following me, though, every time I came to pick up Wendy?"

"Well, yeah, but I never got _that_ close to you. I had no idea there was a guild out here. I just figured her parents were hermits or something."

Siegrain gave a shrug. "It's a pretty unusual guild, I'll give you that."

"I can't imagine there are many jobs going for a guild out here."

"No, but there doesn't really need to be. From what Wendy tells me, it's entirely self-sufficient."

"A self-sufficient guild?" Matthias wondered, his curiosity piqued.

"It's more of a village than a guild. You'll see."

Siegrain led the way along the familiar forest trail, with his companion following along behind. The rest of their retinue had waited at the edge of the forest, but after Matthias had expressed an interest in seeing where Wendy lived, he had allowed the other to accompany him. To his surprise, he hadn't minded the request, even if Matthias was trekking through the undergrowth with all the grace of an elephant, leaving Siegrain to wonder once more how this man had ever managed to become an assassin.

His armour and his almost-floor-length cloak probably weren't helping, to be fair. Matthias was dressed for war – in other words, he was wearing exactly what he normally wore when hanging out around the Council Headquarters. The rugged, battle-ready look suited him so well that he seemed to have adopted it as his style permanently. By contrast, Siegrain had no use for anything as mundane as armour or a physical blade. He wore his usual formal white coat, but only as protection against the crisp autumn morning. Beneath, the tight-fitting clothes he had had designed to work with his magic looked more like they belonged in a gym than a battlefield. They were specialized for manoeuvrability, not defence, but it simply showed the faith he had in his magic, and in his own speed and agility when he used it to fly with.

He had had plenty of time to train over the past three months. Most of his training had been dutifully undertaken in the Council's facilities, but for a significant portion of it he had switched with his illusory double in order to practise somewhere more private, where he could refine his skills without giving anyone from the Council the chance to learn the true extent of his power. By now, he was just as comfortable fighting in the air as he was on the ground. The chance to try it out in real combat was another thing he was looking forward to – along with watching the man behind him fight. The two of them had sparred a couple of times in the arena, but always unarmed and without magic, and never to any conclusion. Unable to properly test each other under those circumstances, Siegrain had decided to wait until the mission began. He couldn't help but feel a natural curiosity towards the man with an even stronger reputation amongst the Rune Knights than himself.

Before long, the familiar tribal settlement of Cait Shelter was visible through the thinning trees ahead of them. They were still a few metres away from the entrance, however, when Siegrain stopped in his tracks. "That's odd."

"What is?" inquired his companion, scrutinizing the settlement from this distance in an attempt to spot something out of place.

"Wendy can always sense me coming a mile off. She'd normally have come running out to meet me by now."

Matthias shrugged. "Maybe she slept in."

"That's the sort of thing _you'd_ do. Wendy isn't that unreliable. Wait here, I'm going to go and find out what's going on."

"I resent that implication," Matthias grumbled, but he hung back anyway and let Siegrain enter the guild alone.

It was quiet in the little settlement, but not unusually so. A couple of guild members cast him cursory glances as he entered, but none of them made any attempt to interact with him. He couldn't help smiling at that. Roubaul may be tolerating him, for Wendy's sake, and he may even have agreed to teach him the magic which had allowed him to clear his name with the Council, but that didn't mean the old man had to like him.

"Wendy!" he called, glancing about for any signs of life.

It only took a couple of seconds of waiting before a familiar figure emerged from one of the tents, dashing towards him across the damp earth. "Siegrain!" Wendy shouted as she skidded to a stop in front of him. Though her voice sounded as gleeful as ever, was it just his imagination, or did her smile seem a little forced? And come to think of it, it was unusual for her not to jump on him in some form when he arrived. Either she had actually learnt to respect other people's personal space, or something was up.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

Given the observations he had already made, he was not entirely surprised when she averted her eyes. "I… well…"

"What is it?"

Wendy bowed in sincere, desperate apology. "I'm really sorry, but I can't come with you today. I know that you've had to come all the way out here to get me and I really feel bad about that, and I know you were counting on me, so… I've tried to help."

She held out a folded bit of paper; when he didn't react, she grabbed his hand and pressed the paper into it. "I went back there a while ago to make sure I was right, and I've drawn you a map of the area as well as I can remember it so you'll be able to find where you're going. I found what I thought was the entrance, and I wrote down instructions that should break the magical lock on the door, though I couldn't risk getting closer and trying it out, so you'll have to check the door for traps like you usually do, and the combination might be wrong. And I know that you always say that you can't sense magic like I can and there's no point me trying to describe it to you, but Master Roubaul suggested that I wrote down a list of all the things that the R-System magic reminded me of, so if you feel anything that makes you think of any of those things then you'll probably have found it-"

"Wendy." He had been stood there for most of that torrent of words with his mouth half-open, not really following this turn of events, and at last he interrupted without really being aware that he was doing so. "You're really… not coming?"

She hung her head dejectedly. "I'm sorry. I really do want to go with you. I've been looking forward to this for ages… but I can't. I'm sorry."

"…Why?"

"It's Carla. She's really ill. She has a fever, and won't stop shivering. She has these visions sometimes and I think that she got caught up in one and ended up sleepwalking out in the rainstorm, and Master Roubaul found her collapsed on the ground this morning. It's my fault; I should have noticed that she wasn't there last night, but I didn't, and now she's… Maybe cats don't dry as well as humans, or maybe it's just because she's not fully grown yet and is more vulnerable to getting a chill, but either way she's really suffering and my magic can't help her and I just can't leave her alone like this-"

"Who's… Carla?"

"Oh!" A spark of her usual chirrupy brightness returned to her eyes in response to the dazed question. "I'll introduce you!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him in the direction of one of the tents. "Carla's my friend. Well, actually, she's my second-best friend after you, but don't tell her that, because she might get upset."

The tent they entered was uncomfortably warm – a raging fire blazed in the centre, unusual for the time of day. Huddled up close to it was a little white cat, wrapped in so many blankets that it was difficult to tell what she was at first. Her cheeks were tinged with a feverish red. Despite the temperature of the room, high enough to have caused beads of sweat to break out on his forehead already, she was shivering. She glanced up reluctantly as the two of them entered.

"Siegrain, this is Carla," Wendy declared. "Carla, this is Siegrain."

"Carla is a cat?" Siegrain asked, somewhat numbly.

"Yup!"

"I don't like him," muttered Carla, earning herself a look of astonishment from Siegrain and a reproachful glare from Wendy.

"Well, if you act like that, he's not going to like you either, is he?" Wendy reprimanded her friend.

"The cat can talk…" Siegrain mumbled.

"She can fly too," Wendy added cheerfully. "But obviously not right now, because she's sick. So, you see, I have to stay here and look after her. I'm really sorry… but you understand, right?" she added.

There was guilt in her voice, and the faintest touch of hope – the hope that he might understand and not blame her for what was going on. Some part of him recognized that, and he shook himself mentally, attempting to come to terms with the unexpected situation and give her the response she was looking for.

"Sure. It's your choice whether you come with me or not. If you don't want to this time, it's fine."

Her anxiousness melted into gratitude and relief. "I knew you'd understand. Thank you!" She hugged him, clinging on a little tighter than normal, and for a little longer. He didn't really notice. "Come back soon, okay?"

"Okay."

He didn't really remember saying goodbye to her, or walking out of the village. In fact, he only realized that he had left the guild at all when Matthias's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. "Where's Wendy?"

"She's not coming." His own voice sounded strange to him. If there was another time in his life when he had ever felt so uncertain about something, then he couldn't recall it.

Matthias frowned at him. "Well, I get that you're disappointed, but really, isn't that a good thing? This raid is going to be far more dangerous than anything the two of you have done together before. It might be for the best that she's not coming. At least this way she'll definitely be safe."

"I guess, but…" The eyes he turned upon Matthias were full of bewilderment. "I don't understand. It's not as if this is the first job I've done without her, but… She's never not wanted to come with me before. At the start, she would do anything to convince me to take her along, and then, after we went to the beach, I thought that… I don't know…"

He wasn't expecting Matthias to suddenly bring his hands firmly down on his shoulders. Startled, the thought of fighting back didn't even cross Siegrain's mind. He stared at the older man, astonished.

"Quit spacing out," Matthias instructed steadily. "Look. This mission isn't going to be easy. If you can't stay focussed on the task at hand, you're going to die. We're all counting on you to pull through here. Even I might be hard-pressed take out an entire evil cult by myself."

Then his stern face relaxed into its familiar, friendly smile. "And Wendy's counting on you too, isn't she? She found this R-System for us, but she can't come and see the mission through to its end. She has to trust you to do it for her. So don't even think about letting her down, and get your head in the game, alright?"

Siegrain stared at him for a long moment, and then gave a reluctant, but genuine, smile. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

"Siegrain!" The sudden shout startled the two of them, and they both turned in the direction of the guild.

Wendy stood at the entrance to Cait Shelter, gasping for breath. Before Siegrain could say anything, she placed her hands together and shouted across to them at the top of her lungs, "Don't die! You've got to come back safely so we can go on our next mission together, okay?"

He raised his hand in acknowledgement; a silent promise. There was a smile on his face as he walked away, Matthias at his side.

* * *

If there was one good thing about being thrown straight into a perilous mission, it was that once he had started fighting for his life, all worries about Wendy went straight out of Siegrain's mind.

Wendy had already given them the general area in which the R-System was located; her cartoonish map, interpreted by Siegrain – who assured them that he had enough experience with Wendy's quirks to be able to reliably draw out the information contained within it – led them to the exact location without much difficulty. This was a remote region of Fiore, dominated by open, sparsely inhabited plains, far from any major cities or transport connections. Wendy's directions led them to a set of ancient ruins: fallen pillars; sculptures so weathered that their original purposes had been completely obscured; the broken shells of stone buildings. Most impressive of all was half a coliseum. The arena itself had sunk over time to below the level of the ground, but that didn't stop the half of the great circular wall which still remained standing from towering up into the sky, a marvellous display of ancient architecture.

That curiosity aside, there weren't any obvious places where a cult could have been hiding out – save for one. Two stone doors, weathered but resolute, were nestled into the side of a hill, leading possibly to a mine, or more likely a mausoleum of sorts. These were the doors which Wendy's indecipherably vague instructions would presumably open. They had ended up just blasting the doors down in the end, but she had at least been right about their purpose: they were the entrance to a sprawling underground hideout, the subterranean complement to the aboveground ruins which had withstood the test of time with far greater success.

They had spent most of the day scouting out the terrain, though there was little that they could do without actually going underground and seeing it for themselves. One of the jobs that the Knights with them had been tasked with was setting up a perimeter to keep any curious hikers away from the fighting and prevent enemies from fleeing, but without any clue as to the true extent of the ruins beneath their feet, there was not much that they could do. Fortunately, all the qualities that made it a good place to base a secret cult – the remote location; the effective if clichéd rumour amongst the local villages that the ruins were haunted; the tendency of curious treasure hunters who set out for the ruins to never be seen again – also worked in the raid team's favour. They might never have found this place if not for Wendy, but now that they had, there was nothing to get in the way of their mission.

After their search had revealed that there weren't any obvious ways in apart from that set of double doors, they had abandoned any last hope of catching the cult by surprise. Burst in through the main entrance, hit them hard and hit them fast – it was Siegrain's preferred tactic anyway, when dealing with enemies like these. Infiltrating the place and forcing an early surrender wasn't nearly as much fun.

So that was exactly what they had done. With no distractions around, it hadn't taken the Rune Knights long to construct a controlled magical explosion to blow in the doors. Matthias had led the way into the hideout, easily dispatching the two guards just inside before they could sound the alarm – but they all knew there was no way the cultists didn't know they were there. They weren't exactly trying to be subtle. And so the raid had begun.

The first few tunnels they ran down were deserted, but as they left the hill behind and went deeper underground, the rough-hewn tunnels, reminiscent of the warren of some giant rabbit, gave way to more deliberate, orderly ones: rectilinear corridors smoothly carved through ancient stone and doors leading to rooms each built for a purpose, even if that purpose wasn't always immediately obvious to the intruders.

The fighting began in earnest in a vast, circular hall. The walls were covered in carvings dating back to the time when the ruins had first been constructed. They depicted scenes of mages and monsters alike fleeing from the wrath of an enormous dragon; nothing out of the ordinary for a mysterious, ancient place such as this. In the centre of the room was a raised dais, in the top of which was set a shallow indent, where a small sphere of some sort may once have sat. Most likely, the whole room held some sort of religious function. Siegrain could easily imagine dozens of their black-robed opponents kneeling in concentric circles around that dais, lost in ritual prayer – before news of the Council's arrival had reached them only a few minutes ago. With its inhabitants unsure of whether to fight or to flee, this hall of reverence had become a place of chaos.

Chaos was a good word for it, Siegrain decided absently, pivoting on one foot and kicking a cultist who had tried to creep up behind him back into the wall. There were so many Knights and so many cultists and no one had a clue what was going on, least of all him. It was utterly different to the jobs he did with Wendy. There, he fought alone, and never against more than two or three opponents at once. If he told her to hang back until the fighting was over, she always did so without complaint, meaning he didn't have to worry about where she had got to. Trying to keep track of Knights and cultists in this free-for-all was simply impossible. Even with all his senses on high alert, he couldn't perceive more than the immediate circle of enemies around him without conscious effort.

Fighting as part of a group was what the Rune Knights trained for. It wasn't something that came easily to him. He figured he'd trust his allies to look after themselves, and focus on the enemies in front of him. From that point of view, perhaps it was better that Wendy had stayed behind.

The moment he stopped trying to observe the entire battlefield and turned his full attention to his opponents, they fell before him almost immediately. He didn't even need to draw upon his magic to deal with weak underlings like these. After months without any real combat, he could feel his power moving restlessly within him, eager to be called. Magic raced through his veins of its own accord, reinforcing his body against physical damage and sharpening his senses; doing as much as it could to help him win without his express permission to come forth. He couldn't help a smirk of confidence from touching his lips. He felt so powerful. This was exactly what he was supposed to do. There was no one who could-

"Hey, Siegrain!" A merry voice reached him over the din of battle. "Keep up!"

A glare jumped automatically to his face as he glanced around for the speaker. Matthias was a few metres ahead of him in the melee. He was waving joyfully at Siegrain with one hand, even as his other wrapped tightly around the handle of his oversized knife and jerked it out of his opponent's chest. A trail of emptiness stretched from his position back to the room's entrance, where he had cut himself a path through the chaos so quickly that the wave of enemies had yet to fill in the gap.

That man really was something. He danced across the battlefield – it may have been a cliché, but there was simply no other word for it. Every motion was as fluid and as balanced as that of a ballerina. He dodged spells aimed for him as effortlessly as breathing, deflecting them with the power infused into his blade or taking them against his armour when avoidance wasn't possible. Every time that enormous, serrated knife flashed out, it found its target without fail, slitting a throat or incapacitating an enemy or even hacking off a limb or two at the discretion of its wielder, irrespective of what magical defences they might have been employing. Fast and strong and utterly in his element, he fought with a well-deserved confidence.

And to make matters worse, he wasn't even using magic. He was just swinging that goddamn oversized knife around. Talk about showing off.

Siegrain let out a growl. He wasn't about to let himself fall behind here. Drawing his magic to him, he channelled his power towards his raised hand and released four simple bursts of light from his palm. The first disintegrated a fireball that had been inches away from exploding against his body; the others took out the three closest enemies to him. It was so easy he hardly even had to think about it. A nimbus of light blazed around his hand, ready for more.

Rather than jumping back into the fray, though, he reined in his power, glancing around to take in the situation. This was normally the moment of respite when he would check that Wendy was staying safely out of the way of his fight; remembering too late that she wasn't with him this time, a small smile crossed his face as he checked up on the positions of his other allies instead. Matthias was by far the furthest forward, methodically hacking and slashing himself a route to the door which led deeper into the ruins. The Knights were clearly used to him dashing on ahead and doing his own thing, and were paying him no heed. Under the shouted commands of Captain Bartley, they were struggling to contain the chaos he had left in his wake and capture as many enemies as possible. And to the left, a cultist had backed a certain someone into a corner-

At the sight, Siegrain forced as much magic into his body as possible in a split-second before using it to launch himself across the battlefield. His fist found its target with all the momentum of his rush behind it, hurling the cultist back several metres and into the wall with enough force to dent the stone.

Siegrain skidded to a stop in front of the man he had saved, letting the flare of magic fade away again. "Look," he said, with a sigh. "I know it's important for you to be here, but do you really have to be on the front lines?"

Councillor Melchior gave him a severe look in return. "If we want any chance of passing this mission off as legitimate, I need to be supervising the operation at all times." At Siegrain's exasperated look, he gave a rueful smile. "I appreciate you rushing over here to help me out, but there's no need to worry about me. Just do your job."

"Is everything alright here?" Matthias checked, having also dashed over to the councillor's side.

Melchior nodded. "You two go on ahead."

"We'll secure the first floor," Lahar instructed, joining the group. "Go on."

Matthias and Siegrain glanced at each other, and then, at some unspoken signal, they both began to run towards the room's main exit. Having perhaps learnt the lesson of their fallen comrades, the cultists gave the two of them a wide berth. Even the one standing guard at the door found that his nerve failed him at the last minute, and he dived to the side a moment before Matthias's blade would have torn open his throat. Siegrain kicked open the door and the two of them dashed through.

At the end of a short corridor, the path forked in two. Siegrain took in the carved runes lining each wall with a sweep of his eyes and made a split-second decision. "I'll go right," he instructed. "You take left."

"Got it," Matthias agreed, and his brief moment of professionalism vanished into a broad grin. "Race you to the enemy boss!"

And with that, the two of them split up, searching for the route that would lead them towards the heart of the R-System.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** And the raid storyline begins. I think it should be a nice change of pace from all the talking that's been going on in recent chapters - some actual action, plenty of chances for Jellal to show off, and a little more Fairy Tail-style fighting than there has been up to this point (but still not a great deal). Having Jellal and the men from the Council genuinely united against a common enemy should open up some interesting opportunities too. Hope you enjoy it going forwards, and thanks for reading! ~CS_


	13. Clash of Magic, Clash of Ideals

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Clash of Magic, Clash of Ideals-**

Alone at last, Siegrain slowed to a walk as the sounds of battle faded to a distant buzz in his ears. It wasn't as if he had minded being part of the initial rush, but he was far more comfortable being on his own, especially somewhere like this. He wanted the chance to get a good look at this place while no one from the Council was around to observe him.

Away from the crash of the melee, where the high concentration of magic released by the battling mages rendered such observations impossible, the sense of the magic of this place – of this R-System – began to take shape in his mind. It was familiar, achingly so, and yet alien – just sufficiently different to the magic of his own system to make him doubt that it worked in precisely the same way. The R-Systems had been built independently for a reason, after all. They were all different because they all had different masters, driven by different desires.

The stone walls of the corridors were inscribed with runes from floor to ceiling. He couldn't fully translate them without his reference materials, but he understood enough to get the gist of it. He was heading towards the heart of the system, having sent Matthias off in the opposite direction – not that it would buy him more than a minute or two in the long run, if anything at all. Even if he couldn't understand that from the writing, though, he could feel the magic that ran deep within this place pulling him on.

The ruins were old, predating the time of Zeref by at least a thousand years, by his best estimates – but the runes on the walls were new. The cult had chosen these tunnels as their hideout and built the R-System into it, lovingly inscribing its magic into the ancient architecture; slowly but surely perverting the subterranean temple for their own dark purpose. It had a kind of romanticism about it that Siegrain couldn't help but admire. He saw no reason why such a design wouldn't work, if executed correctly. The decision to build his system vertically rather than horizontally had been a purely aesthetic choice on behalf of the Tower's original owner – although, given that its chosen location was a tiny island in the middle of the ocean, building upwards had been the only feasible option.

Of course, there was one major disadvantage to constructing their system underground: it was an awful lot smaller. From what he could sense from the ambient magic and glean from the writing on the walls, the whole system would have barely a fraction of the power of his when completed. They could not even begin to reach his aspirations; even with magic such as this at their disposal, they did not dare to change the world as he would. If he had previously harboured any doubt as to whether or not destroying one of the other R-Systems was a good idea, then he doubted no longer. This cult did not deserve to wield this magic.

On the other hand, a system of this size would require nothing like the amount of energy his would to activate. As he followed the flow of its latent magic deeper underground, taking out the cultists who tried to stop him and studying the runes and structure of the hideout as he went, the fact that he couldn't see any obvious way of powering it began to nag away at him. A plan to use an external source like Etherion was out of the question when the R-System was nestled so snugly within pre-existing underground ruins – and also wouldn't be necessary with a system of this scale. Yet no alternative method jumped out at him. He doubted that the cult's leaders would have gone to all the trouble of building the system underground if they didn't have a way around the problem of activating it – so what were they planning? Where was their power source?

The answer would likely be found at the heart of the system, so he moved swiftly onwards.

He emerged from a grand set of double doors into an underground chasm. He was stood on a sizeable ledge protruding from a steep rock face, upon which rested an altar with another of those odd hemispherical indents set into its surface. Far above him, enormous stalactites hung from a rocky ceiling; below, the darkness seemed to stretch on forever, although he guessed a river still flowed at the bottom.

Though his ledge was the only one on this side of the chasm, the opposite side was littered with ledges and fragile-looking bridges clinging to the rock face in order to provide a means of moving between the levels. Tunnel entrances led from the main body of the cult's lair out onto the ledges and back in again further along; at first these external protrusions seemed to serve no purpose, but as he examined his immediate surroundings in more detail, Siegrain realized that he was standing where a priest would long ago have made ritual sacrifices, while his congregation gathered on those shadowy ledges to watch. Torches still burned along most of the ridges, and the dancing shadows they cast only added to the danger of the environment.

Now, several of the ledges and bridges were occupied by Rune Knights and cultists, fighting it out upon the most perilous of battlefields, where a single slip would bring a horrifying plummet into oblivion. None of the ongoing battles were of particular interest to him, however. Closing his eyes, he searched through the drifting strands of magic in this place, separating out the older, unfamiliar ones from the ones he needed. The R-System magic was familiar enough to him for him to be able to do this with ease; he doubted anyone else in the Council's raid team would have managed it. Even Wendy would have struggled to pull the right kind of magic out of the atmosphere in this place without a clearer idea of what it was she was looking for. Perhaps there was something in what the Council had said to him over a year ago, back when they had first given him this job: sometimes, it took a dark mage to catch a dark mage.

There was a faint smile on his face as he latched on to what he was looking for. The magic drew his attention towards a certain ledge on the opposite side of the chasm, several metres above his current position. A shadowy opening at each end led back into the tunnel network, but there was a clearly artificial stone door situated in the wall at the ledge's centre, and beyond that lay the system's heart. Easy.

Going the long way round back into that crazy mess of tunnels would have taken far too long. Fortunately, the chasm that would have proved a fatal obstacle to most was no barrier to him. He turned his senses inwards and drew his own magic to him, using it to propel him up into the air. For the briefest of moments, he was a rising star, outshining all other sources of light in the vicinity – and then he landed safely in front of the central door.

He knew at once that this was where he needed to be. It wasn't just the magic that called to him from beyond the door that confirmed it, either. There was also a trap – one that his ability to fly had already allowed him to circumvent. The section of the ledge which ran to the cave mouth on his left shimmered with the faint touch of illusion magic. He was getting good at detecting that sort of thing, a skill that he probably had Wendy to thank for. Then again, she might have been able to see what really lay beneath the illusion, whereas he could only guess. Most likely, it was an unstable section of the rock face which would crumble underfoot if anyone tried to cross it. When the time came, he would have to guide the Knights to this location via the right hand entrance.

First things first. He reached out to push the door open – and immediately froze as an electric shiver ran through the air around him. The magic of this R-System didn't know what to make of him. It was different to his, but there was still a part of it that recognized him, just as much of it was familiar to him. It knew it was under attack, but it didn't know whether he was here as a friend or an enemy. That tremble was a manifestation of its uncertainty, unsure of whether to oppose him… or warn him of the imminent danger.

Careful not to touch the surface of the door, Siegrain turned his outstretched palm flat towards the stone and let his own magic take form as a spiral of light encircling his body. Ripples of recognition ran through the ambient energy. Seizing upon its moment of doubt, he ordered of it, "Reveal yourself."

Nothing happened at first, but he did not back down, and its hesitancy yielded to his confidence. A violet magic seal materialized before his palm, rotating slowly in the air an inch away from the door. Now that he could see the trap, he could begin to understand its nature. The illusory ledge was a deliberately simplistic trap, designed to lure intruders into a false sense of security; this was another matter entirely. Not only was it a powerful seal, presenting a formidable barrier to his progress, but it shimmered with layers of a vicious, even sadistic, curse. Though he could only guess as to its nature, he understood enough to know that coming into contact with it unprepared would not be pleasant.

And that posed a considerable problem. There was probably a way round it, but getting through would be significantly faster. And he _could_ overcome it. He knew he had promised Wendy that he wouldn't use this magic – and he hadn't, excluding the time at the Tower when he had fought off the Council's invading force almost single-handedly – but he thought she would probably forgive him for this.

"Sorry, Wendy," he muttered out loud. "But if I don't break this seal, no one on the Council's side will be able to."

Appeasement made, he took a deep breath and turned his focus inwards. He pushed aside the golden power which already flowed within his veins and sought the source of the darkness within him, calling it to the surface. It was patient, this magic. It was not resentful that he had not called it in so long, nor was it disloyal. It understood that he was playing the long game, just like it was.

He touched his right palm to the seal's centre. The instant he did so, darkness rose up from his skin, bubbling like liquid around his arm and merging with the power of the seal. He was expecting the recoil, but having not used the raw form of this power in so long, his tolerance of it had dropped. Excruciating pain wracked his body – a fragile mortal body; one not designed to wield this kind of magic. He gritted his teeth, somehow managing to suppress a scream, and even more impressively, somehow staying on his feet.

The details of the magical lock revealed themselves fully to his mind. Forcing himself to focus, he directed the power surging through his body to break each layer of the seal in the correct order. Compared to breaking the seal on Nirvana, this was a trivial matter. As it dissolved into nothing beneath his fingertips, he felt a rush of satisfaction. Its magic had accepted him as a higher authority than its initial caster and opened the way for him. Smiling to himself, he withdrew his hand from the door-

Something flashed at the edge of his senses. Jerking back to the real world in an instant, he threw himself backwards just in time as something cut through the air where he had been standing.

Touching one hand to the ground, he managed to bring himself to a skidding stop before he went over the edge and into the chasm. Falling wouldn't have been a problem for him, of course, but the humiliation of being pushed off by a surprise attack would have been more difficult to stomach. Just the thought that an enemy had managed to get close while he was distracted was enough to bring a scowl to his face.

Turning to see his opponent, he was struck by a sudden sense of déjà vu. A year ago, he had been attempting to break the seal on Nirvana when he had been interrupted by Captain Bartley of the Rune Knights. Now, as he opened the seal on the doors leading to the heart of the R-System, who had crept up on him once more but the very same Knight?

The middle-aged man with the drooping moustache stood alone in the cave mouth to his left. His sword was in his hand, the tip of the blade pointed directly towards Siegrain. The loathing in his eyes was also familiar from that day; their first real face-to-face meeting after four years of brief skirmishes. As Siegrain stared at him, not entirely sure what was going on here, a blade of ice materialized in the air parallel to the Knight Captain's outstretched blade. With a flick of his sword, he sent the ice weapon shooting towards Siegrain.

Only when it became obvious that the blade wasn't about to veer off course and attack a hidden enemy did Siegrain duck it; it shattered against an outcropping of rock several metres behind him. Utterly bemused, he turned back to the Knight, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "You do realize we're on the same side, right, Captain?" he asked.

His innocent question only provoked an angry snarl in response. "We are _not_ on the same side. I know that you're a traitor. I don't know how you've managed to deceive the Council, but you won't deceive me!"

Another two ice blades appeared in a burst of magic. He launched them straight towards Siegrain, who jumped back to dodge them in the nick of time. The thin ledge didn't provide him with a great deal of space for evading in. He regarded his self-professed opponent through narrowed eyes.

During their last encounter, he hadn't fought back against this man and his entire division of Rune Knights because he hadn't stood a chance of winning. Now, the situation was entirely reversed. It wasn't just that Bartley was alone, but that Siegrain himself was in an entirely different league than he had been back then when it came to magic. This whole confrontation was just madness.

But he _wanted_ to fight. Dark power still pulsed thick and fast throughout his body; its desire to be used for its true purpose – to crush all those who stood against him – was overwhelming. _Fight back_ , it whispered to him. _Hurt him. Kill him. He started this. The Council won't so much as reprimand us for killing in self-defence. We don't even have to do it directly. Just lure him forwards, onto the trap. A few steps should do it. He'll fall to his death. Nothing to do with us. That's how we prefer to do things-_

 _Oh, shut up,_ he told it irritably. After a brief moment of struggle, that magic returned unhappily to its dormant state, sealed deep within him. Without it, it was a little easier to suppress the urge to fight back. Still, he had no intention of being completely passive; his ordinary power lingered at the edge of his senses, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice if the foolish Knight pushed him too far.

The casual lightness in his voice belied that readiness to fight. "What brings this on all of a sudden, Captain?"

"I saw what you just did. I know you use forbidden magic. That seal opened for you because it recognized you. You're no different from the dark mages we Knights devote our lives to destroying!"

This time, Siegrain's sigh of exasperation was utterly genuine. "I'm an agent of the Council, Captain. I have to understand these things; it's practically in the job description. You can't just ignore dark magic in the hope that it'll go away – we have to understand it, in order to find ways of beating it. The Council are fully conscious of my proficiency with dark magic."

It was only a slight exaggeration. Although he was careful not to flash his clearly sinister powers around in front of the Council, they were aware that he knew far more than any good law-abiding mage ought to. That was why he was so useful to them, after all. In fact, as soon as he had been officially cleared of suspicion, Melchior had been more than happy to authorize his trips into the Council Archives, where all the dark artefacts confiscated from the general public were kept. He had genuinely spent the past month studying books on forbidden magic – books that, as the fugitive dark mage Jellal, he would have given _anything_ to get his hands on – with the express permission of the Council. Grinning slightly at the memory, he added, "This really shouldn't come as a surprise to you, Captain. How else do you think agents like myself get so good at what we do?"

"Is that what you tell them?" The Captain gave a laugh. "Is that all it took to convince those fools on the Council that you were on their side? I saw the real you, on that day in front of Nirvana. You're a dark mage and a criminal who cares about no one but himself. As a Knight Captain, it is my duty to free the Council from your evil schemes!"

In that moment, Siegrain understood. _Bartley hates you_ , Melchior had remarked back when this mission had been in its planning stages, but he hadn't got it quite right. Bartley was a loyal man; he would tolerate fellow Captains no matter what his personal feelings towards them for the sake of his duty to the Council. In this unique case, Bartley's hatred, rather than being suppressed in the line of duty, had become a consuming frustration.

Perhaps as a result of their occasional run-ins over the past few years, Bartley was convinced that Siegrain was a villain, and had loudly advocated that fact during his initial arrest. In fact, as the one who had arrested him in the first place, the Captain had stood to gain a lot of prestige from it, and yet Siegrain had got off scot free and the Captain had lost his opportunity for promotion. Even worse, the Council trusted him – trusted the word of a man Bartley was convinced was a traitor over the word of one of their own Knight Captains. The fact that he couldn't convince others of Siegrain's evil intentions – and had likely gained something of a bad reputation in persistently trying and failing to do so – was the source of his hatred.

It was wonderfully poetic that Bartley's blind determination to prove that his intuition was right had led him closer to the truth than anyone else. Siegrain wasn't the slightest bit worried about him, of course. The Captain had nothing but groundless suspicions to accuse him with – and it was from that that his hatred stemmed. More than anything, he wanted _proof_ that he could use to show the Council that he was right. It was the fact that Siegrain hadn't put so much as a toe out of line since he had started working for the Council that had driven the Knight to desperation.

In other words, he was hated by the Captain precisely because he was acting as the perfect good guy. Now that was irony.

In the moment it had taken Siegrain to think this through, Bartley had already created another three blades of ice and sent them flying towards him. Three at once was too many for him to dodge in this confined space. Not that that was a problem. An arc of light burst from his palm, disintegrating all three weapons in mid-flight.

The instinctual ease with which he had called the magic was not lost on Bartley. The Captain's eyes widened slightly; perhaps he was understanding too late the gulf in power that existed between them. Oh, there was still a part of Siegrain that wanted to fight, even to kill, this man, while he had a valid reason to do so. Right now, however, he was a mage of the Council in the middle of a raid; he had more important things to be dealing with, and real enemies to fight.

So he decided to capitalize on his opponent's moment of fear, letting an icy hostility enter his tone. "This is a warning, Knight Captain Bartley. Attack me once more and I _will_ fight back."

Another floating ice sword appeared, but the Captain hesitated to send it forth.

At the same time, there came a startled shout from behind Siegrain. "Captain! Siegrain! What's going on here?"

Turning, Siegrain saw Lahar emerge onto the right-hand side of the ledge, staring at the two of them in shock. Perfect timing. Even Bartley wasn't crazy enough to launch an unprovoked attack on him in full view of another Knight. He let his stance relax slightly, though the magic surging within him didn't withdraw its reassuring touch. "A minor disagreement, that's all," he told Lahar calmly.

Bartley's scowl only deepened. "He's a traitor who aims to bring down the Council from within!"

Siegrain sighed. Patiently, he replied, "Look, Captain, if you have a problem with my conduct, feel free to register a formal complaint with the Council when this is over. Until then, please save your magic for use against our enemies."

Confident that that would be the end of it, he turned his back on the Captain and attempted to push open the grand door in front of him. Now that the seal had been broken, there was nothing to bar his progress; the heavy door scraped along the floor but surrendered with a groan when he put his full weight against it. He sensed a wary Lahar coming over to help, and from the other side-

A strangled yell of rage. Surprised, Siegrain glanced over to see the Knight Captain charging towards him, with murder in his eyes and the sword pointed directly towards his heart. Struck by the utter stupidity of that move, Siegrain froze – but Bartley's blade never found its target. He hadn't taken more than three steps forward when the ledge gave way beneath his feet. Siegrain's guess as to the nature of the trap had been right: below the illusory surface, the cracked rocks were stable enough to hold their position when left alone, but as soon as additional weight was placed upon them they broke apart and fell to the abyss below.

To his credit, the Captain put up a good fight. As the ledge broke apart beneath him, he jumped between the falling rocks in an impressive show of strength, reaching desperately for the edge, but it was obvious he was never going to make it. Watching the display with a kind of amused detachment, Siegrain found himself wondering if this was what they called karma.

Then his dispassion was replaced by a very real feeling of alarm. Acting on pure instinct, he sprang into action just in time to seize Lahar and drag him backwards an instant before the Knight could throw himself off the edge.

"Captain!" the Knight howled, and then he turned his fury towards Siegrain: "Let go of me! LET GO!"

In response, Siegrain tightened his grip on the other's thrashing body, requiring the power of the magic flowing through his limbs to combat the strength born from the other's sheer desperation. "Do you want to die as well?" he snapped.

"Let go!" Lahar screamed, but Siegrain did not, and after what felt like an eternity of struggling but was more likely less than half a second, he seemed to realize that even if he could find the strength to break free of that grip he was too late to reach Bartley, and the fight went out of him. "I could have saved him," he whispered, a bitter accusation which quickly rose to a shriek of pain. "I could have saved him!"

Siegrain felt a flash of irritation. The next thing he knew, he had shoved Lahar back in the direction of the door and then he was the one throwing himself over the edge. Even as he struggled to comprehend his own actions, the logical part of his mind was issuing instructions with its usual lucid efficiency. Freefalling wasn't going to be enough. Magic that was already awake within him came immediately to the surface at that thought, increasing his downwards acceleration. He could only pray that the ravine was deep enough for his gamble to pay off. Even with the bright light his body was emitting, unable to contain the power coursing through it, the shadows were moving too quickly for him to see anything but his target.

At last he caught the sound of a rushing river over the roar of wind in his ears, and just as his proximity to the bottom of the chasm sent an icy stab of fear through his chest, he knew that he was going to make it in time. Not daring to slow down, he struck the falling Captain in an impact that would probably have broken half the bones in his body if not for the magic reinforcing his physical strength – and then he had seized hold of him with one arm and was dragging him upwards in a great sweeping arc. He was relying entirely on gravity to slow them down as they shot towards the roof of the enormous cavern.

Everything was a blur before his eyes. His body screamed from the strain of the intense acceleration; from the exertion of trying to contain and control so much magic at once. The two of them struck the ledge with enough force to dent it. Through sheer good fortune, this part of the ledge was perfectly stable; though it trembled, it managed to absorb the impact and bring their flight to a stunned stop.

When his conscious mind caught up with him, Siegrain found himself kneeling on the ledge, gasping for breath. What the _hell_ had he just done? He hadn't even intended to stop Lahar from throwing himself to his death, let alone put his own life on the line in order to save a man who had genuinely been trying to kill him.

It made no sense. Not only had he wanted Bartley to die anyway, but it had happened in such a way as to leave him utterly guiltless. Sure, if Wendy was watching he wouldn't have hesitated to save both men, but she wasn't here. So who was he trying to show off to? Lahar? It wasn't as if he cared what that Knight thought of him. Besides, there was no way that Lahar could have blamed him for the Captain's death; no way Siegrain could even have blamed himself for it. There was no logical reason for him to have tried to save him at all.

No, that had not been a rational action. It was purely instinctive, but even then, it was an instinct utterly alien to the talent for self-preservation that had kept him alive in this game for so long.

 _Perhaps I have become so used to maintaining this deception around the Council that I automatically act like a good guy when other people are watching._

It was an interesting thought, and surely it could only be a good thing. It was far better that his instincts acted to enhance his deception rather than threatening to expose it. Wasn't the occasional daredevil stunt a small price to pay for that security?

A flash of motion across his vision drew his attention back to the real world. He watched as Lahar approached the dazed yet very much alive form of Captain Bartley. Though the young Knight was obviously shaken by what he had just witnessed, the tip of the spear he levelled towards Bartley's throat was steady, and his voice was strong. "Captain Bartley, you are under arrest for attempting to assault an agent of the Council."

He may have been too stunned to mount any physical resistance, but that wasn't enough to stop Bartley from hissing, "You don't have the authority to arrest me, Lahar."

"No," a smooth voice interjected. "But I do." All three of them turned to see Councillor Melchior emerging from the same tunnel that Lahar had entered through earlier. The Knight gave him a quick nod of gratitude and dragged the dazed Captain to his feet, holding him upright. Siegrain stood up reluctantly, and was relieved to find that after the initial rush of dizziness had passed, he was steady on his feet.

The councillor continued, "Captain Bartley, you are hereby relieved of your position. There will be a hearing once this mission is over. For the time being, I shall assume direct command of the operation."

"But- you- he-" Bartley tried, his face painted an ugly shade of purple.

"Siegrain, if you would be so kind…" Melchior added.

Nodding once, Siegrain drew back his fist and delivered a swift, powerful strike to the former Captain's chin, knocking him out cold. Lahar set his body gently down on the ground.

"I shall send someone to deal with him shortly," Melchior instructed. "For now, we must press on." With a slightly anxious glance at Siegrain, he inquired, "Are you alright to proceed?"

Siegrain tested out drawing his magic to him, and found that it came as easily as always. If that ludicrous stunt had unsettled him slightly, his magic felt very much the opposite. Only slightly depleted from the level he was used to, it flowed affectionately around his body, eager to show that it was ready for more. A small smile touched his lips. "Absolutely."

The councillor gave him an approving nod. "Then lead on."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I'm quite fond of this chapter, even though it doesn't really progress the plot. I guess it's because this whole scene would have gone very differently if it had happened at a different point in the story. Too close to the start, and Jellal would have snapped the moment he was attacked from behind. Too close to the Tower of Heaven arc, and... well, you figure things out for yourself. But because it happens here, he stays calm and deals with the situation patiently. Which was really not what I was expecting when I sat down to write this scene, I must admit. _

_Still, Jellal doing Good Things even when Wendy isn't around? Hmmhmmhmm. I wouldn't want to speak too soon, but this sure looks promising..._ _~CS_


	14. The Man with the Perfect Ability

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-The Man with the Perfect Ability-**

Siegrain didn't need to be in tune with the dormant magic winding its lazy way through the R-System to know that they were getting close to its heart. The tunnel behind the sealed door was a long one with no branches, curving slowly up through the earth. He was in the lead; Lahar and Melchior followed close behind.

He set a brisk pace, but he did not rush. There was no point. The cult's leader – the one who had cast that magical seal upon the door – would have known the moment he broke it. No, more than that – they had used up the element of surprise the minute they had burst into the hideout. It was better to take it slowly here, and to be on their guard, than to rush headlong into a trap. The more Knights who could catch up with them before they reached the cult's leader, the better.

But the three of them were still alone when they emerged into a vast arena. Siegrain knew where they were immediately: this was the sunken coliseum, whose once-mighty walls they had admired from the surface. The arena floor and the first few rows of seating had all dropped to below ground level. Higher up, the arches packed with earth were replaced by empty ones, through which the surrounding grasslands could be glimpsed. The sky ranged from a hostile blue to a soft orange; somewhere beyond the coliseum's towering walls, the sun was setting.

Once, in a time so long ago that even to Zeref it would have been ancient, men had fought for their lives in this place. The struggle to live against all odds held its own kind of magic, and that brutal legacy merged with the dark promise of the R-System in this place, where the gentle countryside breeze could not stir air thick with magic and history. Even as he admired the exquisite beauty of it, while its power brushed against all his senses with a lover's caress, Siegrain couldn't help but feel sorry for it – an endless compassion; the regret of one with far more years than he. For all the beauty of this place, an aspiration so firmly rooted in the past could not hope to usher in a new age for the future. If his hand would be the one to teach it that lesson, then so be it.

Snapping his connection to the magic before it could weaken his resolve, he surveyed the scene in front of him with his eyes alone. The arena swarmed with cultists. Like those they had encountered on the floors above, each one wore a hooded black cloak which billowed out behind them as they scurried back and forth. There were so many of them that going in alone would be suicide, even for him.

Fortunately, fighting them all at once would not be necessary. His sharp eyes were drawn to the single anomalous figure standing close to the centre of the arena: the only one not wearing the obligatory evil cloak was a slim young woman, whose leather armour, while still fitting the dress code by being dyed completely black, appeared a lot more practical to fight in. A closer inspection revealed that her head was shaved completely bald; what he had initially taken to be hair was an elaborate violet tattoo of a dragon, rising up from her cheek and spanning the entire right side of her scalp with its outstretched wings. Numerous silver piercings studded her ears and cheeks. He would have guessed from her outlandish appearance that she was their leader, even if the similarities between the magic he could sense from her and the latent power permeating the entire hideout hadn't confirmed it for him already.

As he watched, a robed cultist ran up to her and bowed. He cupped his hands together and she dropped something spherical into them, which he quickly brought close to his chest. The leader's cold order rang clearly throughout the arena: "No one leaves this place alive." In response, the cultist bowed again, and then began to run towards one of the arena's exits.

"Yeah, I don't think so," Siegrain grinned. Power flooded his body; in a blaze of light he was gone, streaking over the heads of the startled cultists. The fleeing man hadn't taken more than two paces before Siegrain was upon him – or he would have been, if not for the bald woman.

Not the slightest bit intimidated by his rapid approach, she raised her hand and pointed directly towards him. Time seemed to slow down as she spoke. "A lone prayer is heard in the endless silence. This is my command: Rupture."

The next thing he knew there was an excruciating pain from deep within him, as if his body were being torn in two. The shock of it paralyzed his muscles; the magic driving him forward vanished as if a switch had been thrown. He screamed, and then his scream became a choke as he crashed into the ground and all the breath was knocked out of his lungs. He bounced limply along the arena floor and finally came to a stop several metres away, face-down in the dirt.

Somehow he was still conscious. Echoes of that pain raced through him; darkness swam in his vision. His entire body felt numb and unresponsive. Dimly, as if from a great distance, he heard someone screaming his name.

And, much closer to him, someone else was speaking in an amused, mocking voice. "Seize him."

 _Get up get up GET UP!_

When the pain had faded from his muscles his magic had returned in full force, kick-starting his heart and overwhelming the desire to lie there in the dust and rest with its own desires: to live, to fight, to never be beaten. Without even knowing how he had got there, he was back on his feet, growling a wordless challenge.

He couldn't see the three cultists who were rushing forwards to grab him from behind, but he knew they were there. Guided by instinct, he thrust his arm out to the side. A circle of golden light ran through the dirt around his feet, which burst outwards in a wave, picking up the cultists and hurling them away from him. Breathing heavily, he regarded their leader through narrowed eyes as the rest of the world snapped back into place in his vision.

"Oh?" Her lilting voice resounded in his ears. "You're a tough one, aren't you? Most people can't move after taking one of those, let alone use magic." She didn't seem at all dismayed by the observation. "You're the one who broke my seal, aren't you? Impressive. I didn't know the Magic Council had people like you."

He narrowed his eyes and said nothing. With a jerk of her head that might have been to indicate the ruined arena, but which he and she both knew to be referring to the magic swirling around them, she continued, "It likes you. Well, it did until you burst in here and made an enemy of me, at least. We might be inclined to forgive you, if you take that back. You belong on my side."

"I think not," he replied, and his voice was perfectly composed. "By the end of the day, you will have nothing."

"We shall see," she said, with a sly smile.

Her confidence might have bothered him, but he knew better than that. For her and her followers, the game was up. He had no idea how the rest of the battle between the Knights and the cultists was going, but even if the cult did somehow manage to defeat the intruders, the Council would simply send more men. They knew the location of her R-System now. She might survive, but her scheme would not.

That, most likely, was the reason for the somewhat ominous order she had given her subordinate: no one leaves alive. In other words, avenge the inevitable loss of their R-System by dealing as much damage as possible to the Council and its task force in the process. He glanced half-heartedly over his shoulder, but the man she had given that order to had disappeared. With a grimace, he turned his attention back to her.

"Leave this one to me," she instructed the cultists around her. "You deal with the other intruders."

As the others backed off, giving them a wide berth, he and the woman eyed each other across the distance between them. He shifted slightly, adopting a familiar battle stance; testing the weight on his feet. His body was damaged, but not so much that it would hamper his movements significantly. The light of his magic gathered at both his palms. As if in apology for being insufficient to overcome her attack earlier, it seemed even more determined to win than he was.

Without warning, he shot towards his opponent. He was fast but so was she; she dodged his initial strike and he shot out of reach as she tried to seize him. Placing his hands together as he flew, he generated a nimbus of light around his hands, and as he reversed direction and headed directly for her, he urged his magic to lance forth as a powerful beam of energy too wide for her to avoid.

He could tell from the smile on her face that it wouldn't be enough. "Against human fallibility, a miracle alone is insufficient. This is my command: Vanish."

And it did. The attack he had sent towards her just winked out. Even as he tried to work out how that was possible, he felt the unfamiliar touch of her magic pressing against his body, trying to suppress his own power. The weightless light and the feeling of control faded from his mind; he skidded along the ground, back under gravity's domination. That her magic could negate his was one thing, but that it was succeeding at doing so within his own body was another matter entirely.

Anger rose up within him at the realization. _You cannot control my magic. You do not have that right!_ Furious, he summoned forth the other power residing in his mind. This would not be so easily contained.

As the darkness swelled within him, he saw her eyes widen and knew he was right. This power was not hers to control. Even if the Rune Knights were watching as he called forth the magic he had resolved to use only when he was acting as Jellal, victory here had to take precedence. He may have promised Wendy not to use it, but more important than that was his promise to return to her alive.

He ran at her with power surging within him. Shadows pulsed in time with his racing heart; each footstep sent ripples through the twilight. He was neither as fast nor as strong as he was used to when using that magic in this way, and leaving the ground while under its influence alone was completely out of the question, but his physical abilities still far exceeded those of an ordinary human, and he launched a barrage of rapid punches towards her. Darkness flowed across his body like liquid armour, repelling her attacks and lashing out at her of its own accord if she got too close.

She was hard-pressed to dodge everything he aimed at her, but somehow she did, every single time. It wasn't just that she was fast – she seemed to know exactly where the next strike would come from. Her effortless agility, that smug glint in her eye – he knew what no one else could have worked out; that the ambient power in this place was conducting the sense of his own magic to her long before she could have registered his intentions with her vision.

Growling, he changed his tactics. With a sweep of his hand, the shadows cast by the setting sun came alive at his command, reaching up from the ground to bind her, driven by a hunger for life that was all their own. Annoyance flashed in her red eyes, but it was just for a moment. Before any of the shadow creatures could touch her, she pressed her right hand to the ground, and whispered words like a prayer. "It is when faith is weakest that the revelation comes. This is my command: Fall."

Instantly, the gravity around her seemed to increase tenfold, forcing him and the living darkness to the ground. He might have been able to escape its pull if he employed his original power once again, but she had no intention of letting him try. Her smile became savage as she brought her free hand round to point directly towards his heart. He recognized that look in her eyes, and it sent shivers through him.

"A single melody drifts within the vast prosaic ocean. This is my command: Rupture."

He blacked out, but it must only have been for a second or two, because he was still screaming when he regained consciousness. He lay on his side on the ground with no idea of how he had got there. He saw her stride confidently towards him through a hazy world.

The sound of her voice was jarring. Though she was breathing heavily, the evident glee she was feeling more than made up for the exertion of using so much magic. Every part of him resented the arrogance of her words; the certainty of her victory. "Still conscious?" she purred. "I pity you. I estimate that it will take another two of these to break you. Think you can last longer than that?"

He took one look at the power seething through the air around her and rejected that fate with every fibre of his being. He would not fall here. Not like this.

As the crushing embrace of her magic pressed down upon him, something flared to life in his chest; with breakneck acceleration, he went from lying on the ground to racing through the air in a fraction of a second. The hostile magic permeating his body faded before it could deliver its usual splitting pain. Turning in a great circle around her, so quickly she could hardly spin fast enough to follow his progress, he registered the fact that even if there was no visible component to her magic, he could still dodge it if he was fast enough. Maybe, if he could somehow manage to construct _that_ spell while moving at this speed-

Except all she needed to do was increase gravity again to leave him earthbound and helpless. He'd never make it in time. She knew this as well as he did; overcoming her initial surprise at his resilience, she began the incantation that would bring him to the ground and keep him there.

Yet the seconds ticked by and still no such magic materialized. Risking a glance at the cultist, he found that she was enclosed in a box, the walls of which comprised of glowing runes drawn in mid-air.

Now that had not been there a moment ago. He searched for its caster and found, to his surprise, none other than Lahar standing a few metres away from the imprisoned cultist. There was a spear gripped tightly in his right hand; his left was stretched out towards their enemy.

A prison capable of sealing an opponent _and_ their magic, created so quickly by a single Knight? That was impressive. On the other hand, against a mage of her power, it would hold for a few seconds at best. Less if she turned her dispelling magic upon it. Lahar was under no illusions as to his own abilities; his voice cracking under the strain of maintaining the spell, he called, "Siegrain! Finish this now!"

"I'm doing it already," Siegrain muttered, knowing that the other couldn't hear him.

He may not have been on any missions during his three-month suspension, but that didn't mean he had been idle. When he hadn't been fighting off enemies in the Tower or researching forbidden spells in the Council's Archives or maintaining his level of physical fitness at the Rune Knights' training facilities, he had been trying to develop his magic further. It wasn't an easy task when one was entirely self-taught, like he was. As he had told Wendy, he had yet to find any magic described in the literature which exactly matched his own, which ruled out learning new spells from books or even from a living mentor.

For him, magic had always been instinctive and free-flowing. The thought of forcing it into a pre-determined form like a standard spell was utterly counterintuitive. Yet the more he considered it, the more he had come to realize that that was exactly what he had been doing ever since he awoke to this power. He had always forced his magic into the form that he wanted, rather than the form that _it_ wanted to take.

It was the mistake that almost all self-taught mages made. It was _his_ magic: it adored him, and would take any form he asked of it that was within its power, but if that form was anything less than its natural one, there would inevitably be a drop in efficiency. In the relationship between a mage and his magic, the mage was always the master, but there was so much that could be gained by putting aside that control and listening to what the power inside him was trying to tell him.

Since he had started relying on this magic alone for his Council work, he had learnt a great deal about magic in general. He had become so much more sensitive to it; despite his young age, he had a level of knowledge to rival that of the greatest scholars in the kingdom. And, most importantly, he had come to understand his own magic and his relationship to it. The spell he invoked now, one of his own creation, was the product of a year of growth as a mage.

There was a tremendous amount of power locked away inside his body. Only in the past few months, as he had come to interact with other mages during training at the Council rather than isolating himself within the Tower, had he really started to appreciate how much. Of course, having so much power sealed away wouldn't help him one bit if he couldn't release more of it at once than an ordinary mage could. That was where the structure of a spell came in – to help him bypass his own physical limits of release by stabilizing and directing the flow of energy for him.

Now, seven golden magic seals hovered in the sky above them. He had summoned and placed them as he flew; now he returned to the ground in order to divert all his concentration to that mighty spell. Seven stars in the twilight sky: that was the shape his magic had wanted him to create. First a shooting star, now a constellation – he couldn't help smiling at that. The warm light shed by the seals resonated with something within him. Seven times as much power as he had ever been able to release at once before coursed through his body, singing its fierce ecstasy in his veins, and the sheer intensity of it stole his breath away.

For the briefest of moments he almost lost control of himself in that rapture, but as the rune prison around his opponent vanished and she was free to turn her terrible power towards him once more, he raised his hand towards her. His opponent was clearly one for theatrics, so why not add some of his own? A name came to him from nowhere, firmly taking form in his mind, and he thought that the seven seals might have shone a little brighter in response. And then his voice rose to a soaring crescendo; a final, glorious command: "Grand Chariot!"

All the power he had been gathering was released in one go. It became an intense rain of light, a surge of sheer energy erasing everything in its path.

The leader of the cultists looked up at it and trembled, but for her, that fear became resolve. She was stood in the heart of a place brimming with forbidden magic; magic whose creation she had shaped, and which lent its power to her in return. She would not lose in her own domain.

"By the hand of man, even gods will be cast down." She raised her palm towards the power Siegrain had summoned, as if that intense light could be brought to a halt by that gesture alone. "This is my command: Falter."

No.

Falter.

 _No._

Falter!

 _I will not!_

A cry tore from his throat. He was putting everything he had into that spell – all of that magic, all of that energy, and all of that desire for victory; to not lose to the master of another R-System. He would not give up, no matter what.

And if resolve were enough to win, victory would certainly have been his. But that was never the case, and as the blinding light faded along with all the magic he had called into existence, his enemy was still standing, a smirk on her face. This place had protected her; had given her the raw strength needed for her own magic to stand up against his superior power. Minor burns decorated her outstretched arm, but nothing more.

All that power, and it had come to _nothing?_

He had given that final attack everything he had, and he hadn't even been able to touch her. How the hell could he beat an enemy like that? How could _anyone?_

As much from the recoil of his own failure as from the drain of invoking that spell, all the strength was suddenly gone from his limbs. He would have fallen if Lahar hadn't run over to support him with a steady arm.

"Damn," the Knight cursed. "I really thought that would have been enough to get her." For someone who had just witnessed their best chance at beating the enemy leader fail, he seemed remarkably calm. Even more bafflingly, he added, "Now he's going to get all the credit. Goddamn it."

"Who is?" Siegrain wondered out loud.

A scowl crossed the Knight's face; the scowl he reserved for one person and one person only. "My idiot brother, of course."

Siegrain frowned. He hadn't stopped earlier to consider how Lahar had managed to fight his way through the ranks of cultists to reach his side, but now, glancing around, the answer readily presented itself. The arena was filled with Knights and cultists battling it out – the Rune Knights must have finished securing the upper levels of the hideout and made it down to this place at last. And if they were here, then surely Matthias couldn't have been far behind.

"I don't see him anywhere," he remarked doubtfully.

"That's the idea, yes."

Well, that response posed a lot more questions than it answered. Siegrain shrugged. "Well, I suppose if he acts as a distraction, then I might be able to try that spell again-"

"No, that won't be necessary."

Siegrain shot him a bemused look. "You're talking as if this battle is already over."

"It _is_ over." There was a subconscious touch of pride in the Knight's voice. "It was from the moment he entered the room."

He turned to Siegrain and gave him a reassuring smile, which was more surprising than reassuring, as despite the Knight being older than him everyone always acted as though Siegrain were the senior one. "Just do me a favour, and don't look surprised."

"…I'm sorry?"

"He loves it when people look surprised. He's always got to be the centre of attention. So, whatever happens, just act like you were expecting it all along. Please. He'll be unbearable for days if you don't."

"Yeah, sure, okay." Siegrain had stopped listening. His attention had been drawn back to the cult's leader, who was gathering more magic in the air around her in order to deal the finishing blow to her defeated opponents – in other words, to them. He thought he would probably be able to dodge for a little while longer, but whether or not he could get Lahar out of the danger zone in time was another matter entirely.

She opened her mouth to begin another incantation and then something strange happened. All of a sudden blood was spurting out from her neck, where a wide, red gash had appeared, like a second, twisted grin beneath her own. Her eyes were bulging; her lips moved, but no sound came out – her last breath bubbled through the blood pouring from her torn throat instead.

Trying to understand what had just happened, Siegrain blinked, and found himself presented with a scene that suddenly made a lot more sense. The cultist wasn't stood alone any more – Matthias was directly behind her. One arm cradled her head to his armoured chest; his other dragged the knife that had ripped her throat open away from the wound. A grim look had replaced his usual jovial expression.

No, hang on. That scene didn't make any more sense than the first one. Matthias had not even been there a moment ago, and now the woman that Siegrain had barely been able to scratch with his magic was dying in his arms? He hadn't even sensed the man's approach, let alone seen him attack. What on earth had just happened?

"About bloody time," Lahar snapped, his cross voice breaking through the surreal scene. "Where the hell have you been?"

In one smooth motion, Matthias returned the blade to the sheath on his lower back. He released his grasp on the dead cultist and stepped away as her body slumped to the floor. "Sorry about that," he said airily, his usual grin back on his face. "She'd blocked my route off with some sort of magical seal I'd never seen before. It took me a good few minutes to break it."

"And there I thought you were supposed to be good at this job," retorted his brother, unimpressed. "You should have seen how quickly Siegrain broke the seal at our end-" He glanced at Siegrain, expecting solidarity, only to find him staring at Matthias in something of a state of shock. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Lahar muttered. "One thing, Siegrain. I asked you to do _one thing_. Was it really that difficult to just pretend you were expecting it?"

Siegrain rounded on him, having not heard a single one of his complaints. "How did he do that?" he demanded, eyes flashing. "How? He was _not_ there a moment ago!"

It was not as stupid a remark as it sounded. A lesser mage might have been content to put Matthias's perfect assassination of the enemy boss down to some magic that they weren't aware of, but Siegrain was exceptionally well-versed in matters relating to magic, and he had a far better grasp of what was possible and what was not than most. He had already run through all the possibilities in his head, and not one of them could satisfactorily account for what he had just witnessed.

His first thought had been teleportation, but that kind of magic always left traces. It wasn't just remnants of the magic used after the fact – which he couldn't sense here at all – but beforehand as well. There was always a moment between designating the target location for the magic and it actually taking effect, where the magic had to connect two points in space before it could transport the caster between them, at which point the target location would become obvious to any mage with an adequate ability to detect magic in the immediate vicinity, giving them a split-second in which to react before the enemy arrived. Siegrain was fairly confident _he_ would have been able to sense something like that; it would have been trivial for a woman of her power to do so, here in the centre of her domain, where even the ambient magic had moved to protect her.

So he hadn't teleported in, but he had appeared out of thin air. Had he somehow been able to stop time? Surely not. No mage had been able to accomplish that since Zeref himself had walked the earth – and besides, magic as insanely powerful as that would have left behind a large and distinctive trace. All he could sense was the standard blur expected of an ordinary magical battlefield.

That left invisibility of some sort, but invisibility was an imperfect art, having been all but abandoned early on in the study of magic when decades of research had turned up no means of overcoming its flaws. Concealing one's body with magic wasn't at all an unreasonable request. Concealing the magic with which one concealed one's body was another matter entirely. It wasn't just that it was downright impossible for a mage to completely suppress their own magical presence, meaning that any other mage close enough would probably be able to sense them anyway, but that even the invisibility spell itself had a distinctive trace that only became stronger the more powerful the magic used.

To Wendy, anyone trying to make themselves invisible would have been even more visible to her than normal. She was an exception, of course, but then again, he was fairly certain that he would have been able to sense anyone using magic like that in enough time for him to dodge a killing blow – not to mention the possibility of hearing or feeling the approaching enemy as well. That went double for his opponent, in the heart of her own R-System. At the very least, her magic would have induced in her an overwhelming sense of danger, if not actively manifesting in order to defend her from the fatal blow.

So _how?_

"That is what they call Matthias's perfect ability." Councillor Melchior provided the explanation, approaching the group from behind. He appeared greatly amused by Siegrain's stunned expression – and no wonder he was smug, if the Council counted an assassin like that amongst its assets. "While it is active, he cannot be detected by any means – not sight, sound, touch, or even the ability to sense magic."

A 'perfect ability'. If that really was an accurate description, then the name was a fitting one – in fact, it was possibly the most powerful magic Siegrain had witnessed in action. On top of that, if Matthias focussed all his prodigious power into his blade for one mighty strike, there wasn't a single magical defence Siegrain knew of that would be strong enough to stop it. It was a power well-suited to assassinations, reconnaissance, theft; in fact, more or less any task an agent could be called upon to perform. As Matthias had cheerfully informed him several months ago, the only thing it _wasn't_ good for was fighting fairly – and who needed to fight fairly when they had a power like that?

Looking down at the body of the cultist leader, he had to fight back a sudden wave of nausea. How narrowly had he escaped that fate himself? If not for Wendy, that would have been how his first job for the Council ended: bleeding to death on the ground with no idea how he had even obtained the wound that killed him. A single fatal strike that could not be seen coming and could not be stopped, irrespective of the might of his own magic.

The thought that there had been someone around him with a power like that made his blood run cold. All of a sudden, the game that he had been playing with the Magic Council seemed a hundred times more dangerous. How lucky had he been not to have been caught before now?

He had never before felt so glad that he was fighting on the Council's side.

"Uh oh," Melchior remarked. "He's got that look on his face."

"What look?" Siegrain demanded immediately, trying to adopt a blank expression and finding that that was actually quite a difficult thing to consciously do.

"The look that says that from now on you're going to make sure you know _exactly_ where Matthias is before doing anything at all," the councillor responded, laughing. "Don't worry, we've all been there."

"Consider yourself lucky you never had to live with him," Lahar muttered in exasperation. "The day he moved out of our parents' house was the happiest day of my life."

"I know you miss me really," Matthias grinned, only deepening his brother's scowl.

After seeing how at ease his colleagues were, despite everything that had just happened, Siegrain couldn't help but feel some of the immediate tension drain away. He was still light-headed from the strain of calling so much magic and the pain he had endured at the hand of his opponent; likely, the full impact of what he had seen wouldn't hit him until they returned home. For the time being, he was allowed to feel relieved that this man had appeared to save him, wasn't he?

Oh, he was more than a little annoyed at how effortlessly Matthias had killed the opponent who had completely bested him, but he was under no illusions as to the danger of the situation he had been in. He couldn't have won that fight. If the other hadn't stepped in, he would have died. He was mature enough to accept that feeling of gratitude for what it was.

"But how did you do that?" he found himself asking. "How is it possible?"

Matthias didn't seem at all bothered by the question. He didn't mind explaining it to someone who knew enough about magic to properly appreciate the complexity of what it was he was doing. "It affects the perceiver, not the perceived. It erases all traces of my existence and my actions from the world they experience. There is no way of telling that you are under its effects, let alone of actually shielding against it - well, not as far as we know, but believe me, the Council have put it through some _very_ extensive testing." He gave a wry smile at the memory.

"I've never heard of anything like that before. It must be unique magic of some kind… were you born with it?"

"Sort of. I was older than most when I started learning magic, and it took a couple more years before I realized that I could completely prevent other people from sensing my magical presence. After that, I decided to see how far I could take the ability, and spent several years attempting to extend it to the other senses - I guess it's not so much traditional invisibility as it is a series of complex sensory illusions. It took about four years of work to get it to where it is now. As for whether or not it's unique, I can't say, but I've tried teaching it to others and not one of them has been able to learn it."

"A complete understanding of the perception of others, and an insurmountable ability to deceive it. In that field of magic, he has reached a level surpassing all other mages in history." If Matthias was doing his best to appear modest, then Melchior was not at all afraid to show his pride at having such a powerful mage on the Council's side. "That is why he is our most likely candidate to accede to the vacant position of Wizard Saint."

"I can certainly see why." Siegrain was not ashamed to show how impressed he was. "It's an undefeatable power."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Lahar interjected, glaring at his brother. "There are ways that it can be beaten. The effect is automatically broken the moment he attacks, for example, so if he's up against multiple opponents, or if he misses the killing blow-"

Matthias interjected lightly, "Like _that's_ going to happen."

"-but if it did, then he would have to win the battle on his own merit."

"Sure, just give away all my weaknesses, why don't you?" Matthias grumbled, pretending to be annoyed.

"I live in hope that someone will be able to find a flaw in that so-called 'perfect ability' of yours and knock you down a peg or two," the Knight retorted. He pointed at Siegrain. "And if anyone can do it, my money is on this man."

"Me?"

"Sure. My brother may have stolen the show as usual, but even I can tell that you have an exceptional command of magic. The sooner you can take that top spot from him, the better." How much of what Lahar was saying came simply from the frustration of growing up in the shadow of a man with such a reputation, Siegrain didn't know, but the Knight's unexpected praise seemed to be genuine. "Oh, and here's another thing," he added. "That power of his can only be activated when he's not being observed, or it doesn't work properly. There's no use in him turning it on in the middle of battle – another reason why he's in trouble if his initial strike isn't a fatal one. Plus, it drains a lot of power, especially if he interacts with the environment a lot while using it, and it's harder to maintain in a crowd, as it has to affect more people."

"I'm perfectly capable of winning a fight without it, thank you very much. I haven't exactly been neglecting my other training all these years." Then, shrugging, Matthias added to Siegrain, "He's right, though. I'm not the one who labelled this ability 'perfect'. It's not. But it does come in handy from time to time. I don't think I could have beaten that opponent in a straight fight either. I'm not sure I'd even have lasted as long as you did. It's a good job you were here, Siegrain. We make a good team."

Team? He supposed they were, in a sense; he just hadn't thought about it that way before. He and Wendy were a team, but that was far as he considered his interaction with other people to go. He preferred investigating and fighting alone; he always had. He was here with the Council because he had to be, not for any united team effort or anything like that. The terms of this job dictated that he worked alongside Matthias and the Rune Knights and that was all there was to it. If those he fought alongside thought otherwise, then they were mistaken.

A memory of jumping off the ledge to save a certain Knight Captain flashed through his mind, and he suppressed it with an unexpected rush of anger.

Fortunately, Matthias didn't seem to be expecting a response from him. He had already turned his attention elsewhere, surveying the scene playing out in the rest of the arena. With the arrival of the main force of Rune Knights, the entire place was now under the Council's control; the Knights were in the process of rounding up and capturing the cultists who hadn't had the sense to flee when their leader had fallen. All resistance to their invasion had ceased. The sounds of battle were quietly dying down.

"Excellent work, all," Melchior told them, clapping his hands together briskly. "We've won a great victory here today. The cultists have been defeated, and the first of the R-Systems can now be safely disposed of."

He looked pleased, and he had a right to be. This was a significant step forward for the Council, but as the man in charge of it, it was also a big political move for him. He had gambled a lot on this one mission. If they had failed to secure the R-System after not reporting its discovery according to proper procedure, it was more than just his seat on the Council that was at stake – a disaster here could have ended in imprisonment for criminal misconduct. But they had pulled it off, and struck a significant blow against his political rivals in the process.

He continued, "All in all, the raid has been a resounding-"

A tremor shook the entire arena. It was so perfectly timed that they might have laughed, were it not for the worry that rapidly spread amongst them. One of the arches that made up the wall of the coliseum gave in under the pressure and crumbled; the rest of the structure held, but only just. The rumbling earth quietened, leaving an uncertain aura of silence to settle over the Rune Knights. Most of them, Lahar included, cast nervous glances towards the remainder of the wall, as if expecting it to collapse at any moment. Matthias's hand went automatically to the hilt of his blade; a subconscious reflex, since a weapon was of no use against uncertainty.

The exception to this atmosphere of trepidation was Siegrain. He appeared to have skipped worry altogether and gone straight for panic. Not even the threat of collapsing ancient ruins could account for the way his face had suddenly paled, or his eyes had widened, or the uncontrollable fit of shaking that had seized him.

"What's going on?" Lahar demanded of him, far more unsettled by the young man's reaction than by the momentary tremor. "Siegrain!"

"They activated it," came the whispered response. "They activated it!"

"The R-System?"

There was no need for him to answer that. What else could he have been talking about? "But it's incomplete," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "It'll never work. All it's going to do is…"

"What?" the Knight practically screamed at him. "What's it going to do?"

"…Explode." With a look of grim horror in his eyes, Siegrain repeated, "This entire place is about to explode."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Did I set up that entire difficult fight for Jellal just so that I could have my OC swan in and one-shot the boss? Yes. Yes I did. In my defence, it's much better that it happens now (and I can get all the explaining out of the way) before the nature of Matthias's power actually becomes crucial to the plot. I've tried to close all loopholes with it that are relevant to the plot at least, but I also decided to tweak it at the last minute, so let me know if you spot any issues. Why am I doing it like this? Well, it's all for a very good reason. I don't think I've ever worked so hard to set up a future scene in my life._

 _(I swear this won't happen again. Jellal will be awesome next time, I promise.)_

 _(Yes, I am making up rules of magic as I go along, but then again I haven't exactly been adhering religiously to canon magic from the start, so I figured if you've stuck with me this long without complaint, then you've probably accepted my artistic licence on the matter...)_

 _Anyway, thank you for reading, especially to the guest reviewers or those with private messaging disabled who I can't reply to in person! ~CS_


	15. Aftermath

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Aftermath-**

"Hey, Wendy. Come on. It's your move."

Wendy glanced up to see Carla waving to attract her attention. "Oh. Right. Sorry." She looked at the game board without really seeing it. "Umm… I guess I'll put a hotel on Crocus then?"

The cat let out a deep sigh. "Wendy, you don't own Crocus. Those are _my_ houses. And you can't develop property anyway, because you're in jail. Don't act like you've forgotten our house rules all of a sudden."

Wendy blinked at the dice Carla was holding out to her, as if suddenly unsure of what they were for. The cat sighed again. "Here. Dice," she persisted, pushing them into the girl's hand.

"Right," said Wendy, throwing the dice, paying the fine at Carla's instruction, and moving her top hat out of jail. There was a long moment of silence. Wendy looked at her friend, wondering what she had done wrong this time. "Umm…"

"Oshibana Station; aren't you going to buy it?" Carla prompted. "You've got all the others."

"Oh. Yeah. I'll do that."

A frown creased Carla's face as Wendy began counting out the money, and when the girl held out the notes for her to put in the bank, she made no move to take them. "Wendy, you're not paying the slightest bit of attention to the game, are you?"

"No, I am, it's just…"

"Seriously, Wendy, I might as well be playing with myself here."

"Sorry…" Wendy glanced away apologetically. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, letting out a deep sigh.

Not once had Carla seen her friend look as troubled as this. Her melancholy was disturbing - it was like being with a completely different person. What had happened to the friend she adored? Where was her usual lively spirit; her irrepressible enthusiasm? It stirred up feelings of guilt that the cat angrily fought away.

This wasn't what she had wanted.

Some of her internal anger must have shown on her face, because Wendy hurriedly apologized again. "I'm sorry, Carla, I really am – look, it's your move, so why don't you go? I'll pay much more attention this time, I promise."

Carla did not take the proffered dice. "You're thinking about _him_ , aren't you?" Wendy flinched at her scathing tone, and that was all the confirmation that she needed. "You wish you were there on that mission with him, rather than stuck here with me."

"No! That's not true!" Wendy's voice rose to a desperate, flustered shout. "I like this game, and I like playing with you, Carla!"

"Well, you're sure not acting like it," the cat scowled. She knew she shouldn't be saying these things, but she was angry; so angry. _She_ was supposed to be Wendy's best friend. They had been together every single day since she had hatched. And yet that man, that accursed man who had the nerve to try and take Wendy away from her, was somehow still occupying all of her thoughts, and she _hated_ it.

"No! I'll focus, I promise! Even if you do have hotels on half the board I can still turn this game around, you'll see! Siegrain did that to me the first time we played by tricking me into a really bad property trade, even though _I_ was the one supposed to be teaching _him_ how to play…"

Her voice faded to nothing at the alarming look that entered Carla's eyes. Even if she didn't know exactly why the cat was so upset, she was sensitive enough to realize that that was not a good topic of conversation. Hastily, she added, "Oh, I know! Since you've practically won this game anyway, why don't we play something else? I think I'll be able to focus better if we start over from the beginning. Oh! Are you maybe feeling cold? I could go and get some more logs for the fire, or how about another cup of tea? I could make one for you, would that help?"

"Why are you doing this?" Carla snapped suddenly. "Why are you pretending to be nice? I know you'd rather be with him than me. There's no point trying to act like you're not thinking about him all the time."

"I…" Tears shone in Wendy's eyes. Why did that girl have to cry over _everything?_ Carla felt another wave of guilt as her friend's voice cracked, but she was too angry to relent now. "I'm just really worried about him. He's my friend, Carla. I don't like him any more than you, or any less, it's just… I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong and he's in danger. I know it's silly. He goes on jobs all the time without me, and with all the Rune Knights there too, I'd probably just get in the way. But I did promise to go with him, and if anything happened to him while he was there without me, I'm not sure I'd be able to forgive myself. I'm sorry, Carla, I just don't think I'll be able to relax until I know he's safe. That's why I'm worried… that's what I'm thinking about."

"Oh, I get it now." All the dark feelings that had been growing deep within her since the previous day were rising to the surface. Wendy was everything to her, so why wasn't she everything to Wendy? For so long it had only been the two of them, and they had been happy. Why did that have to change? "I'm not good enough for you, am I?"

"What? Where are you getting this from?"

"Because I'm weak. Because I can't do anything by myself. Because I can't even leave the guild unless you're with me. Why would you need a friend like me, when you could be with him instead?"

"I don't understand." Wendy stared at her, shaking her head in genuine incomprehension, and trying to stop the tears from running down her cheeks. "Why do I have to choose between you and Siegrain? You're both my precious friends. Why do you have to hate him?"

"Because he's taking you away from me!" Carla screamed. "And you want to get rid of me, don't you? You hate me, because I'm making you stay here with me rather than go with him-"

"It's not your fault that you're ill! How could I possibly hate you for that, Carla?"

"It _is_ my fault! Because I deliberately stayed out in the storm all last night after Master Roubaul told us not to so that I would get sick and you would have to stay and look after me!"

There was a moment of silence. Wendy glanced away. "Yeah, I know."

Carla blinked, the wind taken from her sails. "…You already knew?"

"Yeah." Wendy gave a small nod. "The only time my healing magic doesn't work is when the damage it's trying to heal is self-inflicted. So I figured… you'd probably done something like that."

"But… But if you knew that it was all my fault, why did you stay?"

"Because you were still sick. No matter how it happened, I couldn't just leave you on your own to suffer like that. Siegrain can look after himself, sometimes, so I thought you maybe needed me more than he did. And… I don't know. I just had this feeling that it was more important for me to stay here. You're both precious to me, and while I did want to go with Siegrain, I wanted you to suffer on your own while you were ill even less. Though I keep getting distracted worrying about him, so maybe that plan sort of backfired a bit… I'm really sorry…"

"Damn it, Wendy," Carla cursed, and there were tears in her eyes too. "Why do you have to be so _nice_ all the time?"

The question completely baffled Wendy. "I'll always be nice to you, because you're my friend, Carla."

"Even after what I did?"

Moving so quickly that Carla didn't have a chance to respond, Wendy swept the little cat up in her arms, blankets and all, and hugged her tightly. "No matter what you do, we're always going to be friends. I love you, and I love Siegrain too, and I'm not going to stop until you two can both get along and we can all be happy together, okay?"

"Okay, I guess," the cat murmured.

They stayed there for a minute or two, and only when Carla began squirming restlessly did Wendy realize what she was doing and put the cat down with a start. "Sorry! That's probably not a good thing to do when you've got a fever."

"It's fine," Carla muttered, embarrassed.

"So, shall we play another game? I'm a bit fed up of this one since there's no way I'm going to be able to turn it around now. Let's just call you the winner and start something else. I've got a deck of playing cards somewhere-"

"No," Carla interjected firmly. "No more games."

"Oh! You want to rest for a while, right? That's okay. I'll get a book-"

"No, Wendy, listen to me. You need to go after Siegrain."

The book tumbled from Wendy's fingers. "…What?"

"There's still time. You can probably catch up with them before the mission is over. That way, you can keep your promise."

After a moment, a soft smile spread across Wendy's face. "Thank you, Carla. But I'm not going. They'll be fine without me."

"But… you were so worried earlier! What about that feeling you had?"

"It was probably just me worrying too much. I mean, Siegrain's really strong, and he's got Matthias and Lahar looking after him, and they're sensible – well, Lahar's sensible – _well,_ Siegrain's not going to do anything silly in front of Councillor Melchior, so I'm sure he'll be fine. It's not like it will make a difference whether I'm there or not."

"But… even if it doesn't change anything… even if you are too late, and only arrive once everything's over… at least you'd be there, like you said you would be. He'd be happy to see you. I know _I_ would be…"

She just shook her head. "I'll go next time. No matter what you say, I'm not going to leave you alone right now."

"I won't be alone. I'm coming with you."

"But… that means leaving the guild, Carla! There'll be loads of strangers, and enemies, and magical battles, and you…"

"I know. It might trigger another attack, and I'm terrified of that happening. I mean… the reason why I really wanted you to stay behind today is because I was scared of being left on my own. I thought that if you went away, the nightmares would return, just like they might if I go outside the guild. But… I don't want to remain in the village for my entire life. And I don't want to force you to live your entire life in the guild either, just because you have to stay with me. I've been selfish… and I want to change that. I think I can go outside, Wendy, if we go together."

How could she turn down that level of honesty; of resolve? "Okay. We'll both go. I know the way, but are you well enough to fly?"

Carla got to her feet, shrugging off the layers of blanket around her and materializing her wings. "I'll probably be paying for it tomorrow," she admitted. "But I'm alright for now. Let's go, Wendy!"

The two girls dashed out of the tent. Pausing only to shout to Master Roubaul where they were going, Carla grabbed Wendy, spread her wings, and lifted the two of them up into the air – and then they were shooting through the sky to find their friends.

* * *

As the subtle chaos of rising uncertainty took root at the heart of the hostile R-System, there was one man who, as always, remained calm. Matthias brought his hand down on Siegrain's shoulder in an attempt to snap him out of his panic. Staring dead into the other's eyes, he demanded, "Can you disarm this thing?"

"I… uh, I don't know… maybe?" Siegrain guessed. His eyes were glazed over with a helpless anxiety. "I'd need, ah…"

Matthias's mouth was set in a firm line of displeasure. He did the logical thing, and slapped Siegrain across the cheek.

Siegrain, who was far too out of it to see it coming, felt the dull flare of pain first, quickly drowned by the surge of fury bursting up from within him, which cut through his numbness with cold, familiar clarity. He had already drawn his magic to him to retaliate with when he heard Matthias's command. "Focus. Would you freak out like that if only you and Wendy were here, or would you take control?"

Anger danced in Siegrain's eyes, but before he could respond, Matthias grinned. "That's the look I like to see. Now, can you disarm this thing?"

"Yes." His earlier answer to the question – maybe – was still the true one, but what his senior was looking for was conviction; the will to continue this fight until the very end. Matthias might have been saying something but Siegrain was no longer paying attention, closing his eyes and searching for a solution. The magic in this place was going haywire, thanks to the incomplete activation of the system. He wouldn't be able to draw any useful information out of it. But there was something tugging at the back of his mind-

 _The enemy leader's promise that no one would leave alive. The small object she had handed to an acolyte. And the man had taken it and run… through that door over there._

No sooner had he remembered than his magic was already leaping into action. He raced straight for the exit in a burst of light, ignoring the startled shouts as the others tried to follow and were quickly left behind. There wasn't time to wait for them. Judging by the state of the R-System, they had seconds at best before the entire structure caved in on itself.

He shot round a corner and into a room filled with cultists. Growling, he slowed to a stop. He could see the route he needed to take, but if he ignored them and headed straight for the control centre, it would be a trivial matter for them to take him out while he was attempting to prevent the system from self-destructing. He'd have to deal with them first and there were so many of them and he was already wounded and _there wasn't time-_

"Siegrain, go! I'll deal with these guys!"

Matthias had made it into the room. Without waiting for a response, he drew his blade in one easy movement and charged fearlessly towards the cultists.

"But-"

"Do as he says!" Lahar snapped, grabbing Siegrain by the arm and dragging him towards the door. "Come on!"

When they entered the control room, all thoughts of the battle raging behind him went straight out of Siegrain's mind. In the centre of the wall directly in front of him was a hemispherical indent, from which emerged an entire spider's web of channels crisscrossing all the walls of the room. Below it, a control panel of sorts sat at waist height, several metres long and covered in lights, symbols and writing that he couldn't even begin to decipher. It was absolutely nothing like anything he had in the Tower, and yet it was definitely what he was looking for. The magic swirling thick in the air around it wasn't mistaken.

Swearing out loud, he ran over to it and scanned the controls. He'd never be able to figure out the commands in the time he had remaining. The fact that there still hadn't been an explosion was nothing short of a miracle. There was no choice; he'd have to access the magic directly, like he did in the Tower.

He held both his hands out a couple of inches above the surface of the panel and golden magic seals immediately burst to life beneath his palms. It was simple enough when he knew exactly what he was doing. He closed his eyes, shutting out all other sensory inputs and focussing solely on the magic. This close to its heart, it was deafeningly loud; blindingly bright. It danced around him in a state of hysteria, as if the slightest thing would set it off and bring this place caving in upon their-

No. He couldn't think about that now. With immense self-control, he drove all other thoughts from his mind, concentrating on the magic alone and trying to find some pattern – some useful information – in its crackling cacophony of noise. He knew exactly what he would have needed to do to calm down the magic of the Tower, but even as he began the process, he knew it wasn't going to work. This system was sufficiently different to his to require an entirely new mechanism of control. Some part of it recognized him, and acknowledged him, but it was under no obligation to obey his commands.

And that meant he'd have to hack it from scratch, just like he had attempted to break the seal on Nirvana. Some familiarity with the system would help speed up the process, but-

But it was simply impossible. It had taken him an entire year to prepare for dealing with Nirvana, and while this system was significantly less powerful, the magic binding it was no less complex. Perhaps it was even more so, for this system had been built with modern magical knowledge in mind, which the ancients who had sealed Nirvana had not had access to. There was no way he would be able to make it in time.

And just as before, the scope of the task before him brought doubt, and doubt brought fear, and the flow of magic in his vision wavered and vanished and he was once more stood in front of an ordinary wall. He slammed his fists down on the control panel, which sparked and flashed its annoyance. "I can't do it," he whispered, and then, louder, "I can't do it!"

Yet it _still_ hadn't exploded. He could sense it, all that magic in the air, milling around just waiting for the order to detonate, and yet it hadn't arrived. Come to think of it, where was the power source? He had never found a satisfactory answer to that question which had so bothered him earlier. Where was the magic coming from? What was controlling it; why wasn't it exploding? And the concentration of magic in the air around him, while incredibly high, wasn't actually getting any higher.

He didn't understand why they weren't all dead yet, but there was nothing to be gained from giving up either. With a wordless shout he threw himself back into the sense of that magic, trying to understand it; to analyse it; to somehow shut the system down before it could explode. The first few layers of the complex magical structure were easy enough to deconstruct, being identical to those used as foundations for the Tower's own magic. That should at least slow it down. He brought his own magic into contact with it, assessing it, prodding it, pushing it, manipulating it in the best way that he could-

He wasn't even halfway through the system when it threw him out. Failure only reaffirmed his conviction that this was an impossible task for the amount of time he had to work in. To make matters worse, the system had worked out what he was trying to do to it. It knew he was an enemy, and even with its master dead, it would have its revenge upon him. He opened his eyes to find that the control panel was flashing alarmingly, its surface covered by red magic seals that just screamed danger. The excited buzzing of the surrounding magic reached fever pitch.

 _Just let the goddamn thing explode already and get it over with._

As that last spiteful thought crossed his mind, there was a blur of motion in front of him. Before his astonished eyes, Lahar leapt into the air, holding his spear high above his head in both hands – and then he drove it straight down into the control panel. The magic-reinforced head pierced the metal with ease. Flickering static ran through the magic seals floating above the panel. Shivers of electricity pulsed along the length of the spear.

And then all the lights on the panel winked out, along with the seals. All the power that had been coursing through it simply vanished. In the distance, something groaned and then fell silent. The cavern trembled once and then was still. The gathered magic did the magical equivalent of a giving a disappointed shrug and going home, slowly fading from their senses. Nothing exploded.

Lahar jumped back down to the ground, dusting off his hands. "Piece of cake."

It was, however, a little difficult to pull off appearing pleased with himself when his colleague was staring at him with a look of abject horror. "Well _that_ could have gone very badly!" Siegrain exclaimed, still in a state of shock.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" replied the Knight, more than a little defensively.

"Well, yeah, but… it doesn't make any sense." Siegrain rested his hands on the dead control panel and gazed up at the wall. "Why didn't it explode? I'm missing something obvious, I know I am…"

There came the sound of footsteps, and then a familiar voice as Matthias entered the cavern. "Good job shutting this thing down, you two," he remarked. He seemed as unfazed by the sight of the spear sticking up out of the broken panel as Lahar was to see his brother walk in unscathed from a battle against thirty cultists. "Looks like we're all done here, so we can head back up to the surface." After a moment's pause, he prompted, "Siegrain? There's something I'd like to get your opinion on when you have a moment – hey, are you even listening?"

"Go on ahead, I'll catch you up," came the absent response. Shrugging, the two men gave up and left him alone.

Siegrain exhaled slowly as he regarded the control centre in front of him. He should have been happy that the crisis had been averted, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It wasn't that he was annoyed at how Lahar had done with an ordinary spear what he and all his knowledge of magic had been unable to do. Well, okay, it was a bit, but there was a far deeper reason for his concern. Destroying the control panel simply could not have prevented the explosion. That wasn't how explosions _worked._ In fact, damaging the incomplete R-System further when it was already hooked up to an active power source should only have exacerbated the problem.

And that was a point. The lack of any obvious power source, which had been bugging him since he had first entered this place, rose once again to the forefront of his mind. If they had some means of generating the amount of energy needed, it would be right here, but there was nothing.

As frustration rose in him, he forced himself to remain calm and to think, taking deep breaths and approaching the problem logically. The power needed to activate an R-System depended on a lot of factors, but the most obvious one was scale. By comparing what he had seen of this underground system to the plans for the yet-unfinished Tower, he could estimate how much energy it needed; as the dependence might well have been exponential, this R-System required only a tiny fraction of what his would need once finished. In fact, it was such a comparably small amount that it could possibly even be siphoned from ordinary mages over a long enough period of time.

Images flashed through his mind: the very first room, where cultists had been gathered in prayer around a raised dais; the ledge he had found himself on, where sacrifices were made and rituals performed while the acolytes gathered to watch. His explanation seemed to match. How long had this system existed for, then? Ten years? He wasn't sure how long the Tower had existed for before he had been brought to it as a child, so he'd say fifteen, just to be on the safe side. Going by the rough number of cultists he had seen living here, the amount of magic power that could be safely drawn from that number of mages each week, and the length of time this place had been running for, a quick mental calculation put the time needed to gather the remaining energy in the region of three years, which matched with how long he thought it would take for them to finish constructing the system itself.

That was all well and good, but how were they storing that energy? If it were actively contained somewhere in the system then he would definitely be able to sense it, so it must be stored in a dormant state, separate from the R-System itself. The only way to do that – on this scale, at least – was to use a lacrima crystal of some sort.

Had the cultists discovered some lacrima relic within the ruins? No. He reiterated his firm denial with a shake of his head, even though there was no one around to see it. That was the conclusion he would have jumped to had he still have been a full-time dark mage hiding out in his lair, but he had learnt a lot since then, courtesy of his new job putting him at the forefront of the modern magical world.

In the years since Zeref's reign, the ruthless persecution of so-called 'dark magic' had set the study of magic back centuries. So much learning had been lost that even now, four hundred years later, not a single mage had managed to surpass Zeref in terms of knowledge or power. Modern mages were still making 'discoveries' that had been common knowledge back in that era, when magic had truly been free. It was by no means unusual to find ancient magic which was far more powerful than anything around today – the R-System was one such creation, being constructed in accordance with instructions set down by long-dead masters.

But other fields of study had come on in leaps and bounds since that time, and magical technology was one of them. Something like Etherion not only had not existed during that era, but would have been labelled impossible, because the technology needed to create it had yet to be conceived of. Likewise, for centuries the only substance thought to be capable of storing magic power was naturally occurring lacrima crystal. Its qualities could be enhanced by careful cutting of the crystals and varying the way in which energy was loaded into them, but ultimately, if you wanted to store more power, you needed a bigger crystal.

And yet new advances in the material sciences over the past few decades had led to the creation of certain metamaterials – man-made substances which were engineered to have properties not found in nature. All of a sudden, artificial lacrima could be created from the most unusual of materials, and within the space of a few years the storage capacity of a handheld lacrima had shot up by orders of magnitude. Just the other week he had been called on by the Council to advise them concerning a patent application for a new magic-storing metamaterial.

The Tower used conventional lacrima. Its former master had not possessed the technical knowhow, let alone the resources, to produce the new kinds of crystal on the scale that the R-System needed, and there had been no point in him trying to change it halfway through. But if this cult had somehow had access to that technology… well, going by the best prototype crystal in existence fifteen years ago and the metastable state enabled by the extremely slow rate at which it had been filled, this R-System could probably be powered by a crystal small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

Oh, how stupid had he been?

All this time he had been looking for a power source that was big and flashy, like his, not a sphere small enough to fit perfectly into the indents in the altars all over the hideout – into the indent on the wall right in front of him now. His own experience with the R-System magic had completely backfired. It had led him to miss the obvious.

The R-System hadn't exploded because it wasn't connected to a power source. There was nothing _to_ explode. They had taken that lacrima and inserted it into the wall of the control panel, beginning to distribute power through those channels to the rest of the system, partially activating it, and then it had been removed before the energy of the unstable system reached a high enough level to self-destruct.

Why? Perhaps they had not known that the R-System would fail to explode if they removed the source. No, unlikely. There was no way that the master of this place, the one who had lovingly constructed it from its very foundations, would have not known a fundamental thing like that. Having fought her, he had too much respect for her to accept that as the explanation. More likely, they had kick-started the system to fool him and those on the Council's side into _thinking_ that it was going to explode.

Again, why?

As a distraction. That much was obvious, but what could they hope to gain from it?

Time, so that they could escape with the real power source? But the lacrima itself would no longer be dormant. It would have lost its metastable state the moment they connected it to the R-System, and from then it would only be a matter of time before it-

Oh.

It was indeed a diversion – one meant to lure the only person on the Council's side who could have worked out the true danger of the unstable power source as far away from it as possible.

And as the icy shock of his misunderstanding flooded through him, he dimly recalled Matthias's parting words. Because, really, there was only one thing he could have wanted Siegrain's opinion on – one thing about which, after the events of the raid, he could be sure that his younger companion would know more about than he himself…

He was running before he realized it. His magic burst to life and kicked in before he had gone more than a couple of paces, and by the time his conscious mind had caught up he was already back in the arena, hurtling towards the group of men so quickly that a white shockwave rippled through the air behind him. He grabbed the source lacrima from Matthias's outstretched hand as he passed, ignoring his startled exclamation, and threw it with all his might.

Even with all his momentum behind the throw, and all the strength granted to him by his magic, it wasn't enough. The lacrima was still within the walls of the coliseum when it detonated. He saw a jet-black orb of sheer energy expanding towards him at a terrifying rate-

-and then nothing at all.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Oh, Carla. If you were trying to avoid an argument, you shouldn't have chosen to play Monopoly. Rookie mistake. In other news, I blame Jellal's slightly skewed interpretation of history entirely on the fact that he's convinced Zeref is a god, and not at all on the fact that history of magic worldbuilding (aka history of science) is totally my thing. (The tendency to go off on historical/technical tangents at the most inopportune moments, well, that one you can blame on me, and I will strive to keep it under control from here on out). _

_Anyway, this raid storyline has gone on for a little longer than I thought it would, but with Wendy and Carla on their way to join in the action, the next chapter should bring it to an end in a big way! ~CS_


	16. Trust in the Might of a Miracle

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Trust in the Might of a Miracle-**

"Siegrain? Siegrain!"

At the insistence of that voice, he reluctantly came awake. "Wendy…?" he murmured. His throat burned; the dry dust in his mouth made it difficult to form words.

"Nope. Guess again."

"…Matthias?"

"Bingo. Are you alright?"

"Not sure that's the word I would have chosen. I'm not convinced I'd even qualify as 'alive' right now."

He was expecting light-hearted agreement. What he got was a grim retort. "I'm not sure any of us will for much longer."

The uncharacteristically doom-laden words triggered a far greater sense of worry in Siegrain's mind than an outright shout of alarm would have done. Pulling himself together with an effort, he managed to raise his head from the ground, assessing the injuries he had taken. His head ached, but that was nothing he couldn't deal with; the world he saw became more solid and stable with every passing second. His magic stirred within him, anxious, assuring him that there had been no damage done so far that it couldn't compensate for. Matthias helped pull him to his feet, and once there, he was able to stand on his own.

Only then did he look and see the situation in which they had found themselves. His first thought was that the damage from the explosion wasn't nearly as extensive as he had feared. Most of the coliseum's great wall had collapsed, and he could hear a distant rumbling as more and more of the underground tunnels of the hideout caved in, but aside from the chunks of rock which littered the place, the arena itself had survived mostly intact – no mean feat, considering that there should have been enough energy contained within that lacrima to erase all trace of the ruins from the face of the earth.

Of course, it wasn't fortune that had spared them. Why would the cult be content with merely destroying the incomplete R-System when they could instead bind all that raw energy into a form that could destroy _everything?_

Staring up at the sky with horror, he could visualize exactly what had happened: that sphere of crackling darkness expanding out as the magic was released from its prison, demolishing what remained of the coliseum's walls and tearing up the ground below, before suddenly collapsing back in on itself, roiling and twisting and taking on a new shape, the one which towered above them now.

A gigantic body. A reptilian head, with jaws open wide enough to swallow a whole house in one go. Two enormous wings, blocking out the stars. A writhing serpentine tail. Four tower-like legs, and the ferocious claws they promised. Two red eyes, gleaming with malice. A monster made from darkness, swirling red and violet and black, a manifestation of evil intent against the indigo sky. Far too large to fit within the arena, it hovered above on wings which did not beat, eyeing its prey with a cruel amusement. When it landed on the plains outside the ruined coliseum, the ensuing shockwave almost knocked them to the ground.

"What in the world _is_ that thing?" demanded Melchior, in a shaking voice.

"Is it… a dragon?" Lahar breathed.

Siegrain shook his head numbly. "It takes the form of a dragon, because it has no form of its own."

"So what _is_ it?"

"It's magic," Matthias answered. With a glance at Siegrain, he added, "Isn't it?"

"It's hatred," came the quiet response. "Years and years of hatred against the world, poured into that lacrima by hundreds of malcontent cultists, and given life by magic. It will destroy and destroy until there is nothing left of this world they sought to obliterate… the cult's hateful desire to end this world, granted a physical form."

"So how do you fight something like that?" a nervous Lahar asked of him.

" _Fight_ it?" Siegrain shot the Knight an incredulous look. "You _don't._ You run as far and as fast as you can and pray that it goes after someone else."

"We can't run away!" exclaimed the councillor. Even as everyone's attention turned to him, as if to ask if he wanted to be the one to challenge that thing, he added defiantly, "If we leave now, having let that thing loose, we'll lose everything we've been working towards. This entire venture will have been for nothing."

Lahar folded his arms, steely resolve in his eyes. "We can't just let a monster like that run free. If we just sit around and wait for help, there'll be nothing to stop it from devastating the surrounding area. There are villages nearby – there are people that it's our duty as Rune Knights to protect. Even if you say it's impossible to defeat something like that… we at least have to try."

"What he said." Matthias nodded his head in a show of solidarity with his brother. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade. "Not to mention, I don't like accepting defeat before a battle has even started. No matter how tough the enemy, it just doesn't sit right. I have a reputation to maintain, you know."

There was a moment of silence. Impatiently, Siegrain wished they would hurry up and give the order to fight already – only to realize with a start that they were waiting for him to make the call. The three of them each had their own reasons for wanting to stay, but if he still said that they should run, they would do so. He may have been the youngest there, and the least qualified to be their leader, but in a situation like this, they trusted his judgement more than anything.

For the first time in a great many years, he felt the weight of responsibility pressing down upon him. The decision was his alone, and the lives of hundreds of Knights and civilians, along with his own, hung in the balance. And he felt something, something he couldn't quite put his finger on; a feeling that had long since been confined to his distant memory.

When he spoke, there was a determination and an authority in his voice that had not been there before. "Alright. Lahar!" The Knight turned to him attentively. "You're in charge of organizing the Rune Knights. Round up those still in the arena and set up teams to search the wreckage of the hideout for anyone who survived the cave-in. We're going to need all the help we can get. As for you, Councillor…"

"Stay out of the way?" Melchior predicted dryly.

"Two things. First, stay well away from the fighting. We're going to have to go in close, and against an enemy of this size, losing sight of the big picture could be fatal. If that thing decides it'd rather leave us and head towards one of the villages instead, we won't notice, so it'll be up to you to relay information like that to the combatants. And, secondly, try and find some means of communication. Even if we're too far away to expect help from the Council or any of the mage guilds, we at least need to warn them of what's going on."

"Understood."

"And Matthias…" The older man looked at him in askance, and he smiled. "Let's beat this thing."

A fierce grin spread across Matthias's face. "I was hoping you'd say that."

And then the two of them were running side by side towards the enormous demonic dragon. Siegrain could hear Lahar beginning to shout instructions to the other Knights, and then he had left the ground far behind, soaring up out of the arena in a burst of light. The monster loomed before him, a figure of living darkness visible as a void against the twilight sky. The sun may have set, but night had not fully taken the place of the day; like the last vestige of hope, the light was not yet gone from the world.

Then again, his conscious mind might have had something to say about that comparison. This was madness. Utter madness. How on earth did one take down a monster as big as that? His earlier point still stood: the only logical thing to do in this situation was to run. Trying to fight it with anything less than an army of Fiore's strongest mages at his back was suicide.

But if defeat was so certain, where had this sudden resolve come from? He was worn out from the battles already fought that day, so why did he feel more powerful than ever before? What was this fire running in his veins; this excitement thudding in his chest?

The monster's attention was fixed on him now, but what should have been fear became instead a daring challenge. He increased his speed, darting around its huge body, searching for any obvious weak points. Though the living darkness took the form of a dragon, it did not have scales nor any other kind of armour whose imperfections he could exploit. In fact, up close, it had no well-defined form at all. The magic that made up its body was constantly flowing and shifting; a shield of liquid darkness in place of skin.

He raised his hand and sent an experimental blast of light towards it. As he had thought, the flowing darkness absorbed the energy without any noticeable damage. Wearing this thing down through a battle of attrition would be impossible when magic of that level had no impact at all.

Before he could act on that observation, its enormous wing swept towards him, and he abandoned his assault in favour of evasive action. Drawing upon more power to combat the turbulence, he shot up into the sky as the powerful limb swept underneath him. It lashed out at him with its tail but he was far too quick for it. Utterly fearless in the air, and utterly free, he reversed direction with a neat, swift loop and channelled as much magic as he could towards his right hand. He hurtled towards its back and struck it with his fist.

An ordinary blow would have done nothing to the creature, but, reinforced by the golden magic singing within him, his strike sent a shockwave rippling through its entire fluid body. It gave a deafening roar of pain; he closed his eyes reflexively from the force of the noise. Immediately he felt a sudden sense of danger as his magic detected the threat that he had missed. Trusting that instinct completely, he threw himself off the creature's back – just as black spines burst forth from its skin. If he hadn't moved, he would have been impaled. As it was, he didn't fall more than a couple of metres before his magic kicked in again-

And the monster's tail struck him from the side. It hit like a freight train, hurling him off to the side. The sudden shock caused his magic to fail; he tumbled through the air and crashed to the ground. The fall would have killed an ordinary man, and even though the power which fortified a mage's body was far stronger with him than with most, he lay there in the crater completely dazed, unable to even think about moving as one of the dragon beast's feet plunged down towards him.

There was a flash of motion and Matthias was there, catching one of the great, curved talons against his blade. All the weight of the giant beast was pressing down on him, but although the ground cracked beneath him under the pressure, he held firm, his left hand pressed against the near side of the blade to support it against that force. His usual intense magical presence had all but vanished, but it wasn't from exhaustion – his magic power had simply moved. He had gathered all that power, condensed it down, and forced it into that flashy knife of his. So great was the concentration of magic that it was almost impossible to sense, appearing as a fuzzy anomaly to their senses rather than anything that could be resolved or understood. Only the occasional blue spark running along the length of the steel gave away what was really happening as it repelled the monster's might.

Satisfied that it couldn't break the stalemate, Matthias became once again a blur of motion, shifting his grip on his weapon and slashing horizontally. It was the concentrated magic that he was cutting with; the blade was merely a focus for it. The strike cleanly severed the beast's toe from its foot. Darkness dripped from the wound, dispersing into the air like smoke.

Before it could crush him, Matthias grabbed his knife with both hands and thrust straight upwards with it, impaling the bottom of its enormous foot. That alone was nothing more than a pinprick to their enemy, but that blade contained all of Matthias's magic power, and it had just pierced through its outer shield. At his command, energy erupted out of its end, exploding within the creature's body. It drew back with a shriek of agony which shook the earth to its core.

Meanwhile, Siegrain had climbed back to his feet. "About time you showed up," he remarked.

Matthias cast him a mock-angry look. "Hey, not all of us can fly, you know. I had to climb out the arena. _Climb_."

Beneath that indignant comment lay a crucial point that was not lost on Siegrain. Matthias's most powerful magic would not help him at all in a battle like this. While that little exchange had proven that he was still a formidable ally in this fight, there was only so much he could do with that small blade from the ground.

As if guessing what was going through the other's mind, Matthias added, "I don't suppose you feel like bringing that monster's head down to within reach of my knife, do you?"

"Leave it to me." A golden magic seal burst into life around Siegrain's feet without him even needing to call it, launching him once more into the sky. The monster lunged for him with its jaws open wide. Embracing the challenge, he darted through its open mouth, making it back out into the open moments before it snapped shut behind him, those fangs larger than he was missing him by mere inches.

After that failed attempt, pursing him no longer took priority in the creature's mind. On the ground, Matthias had watched its attention turn to Siegrain with a grin. "Oh, taking your eyes off me, are you?" he challenged.

Racing across the grassland towards the beast's other front leg, he focussed his power into his blade and leapt upwards, slashing horizontally across the back of the limb. Were his opponent a living creature, with muscles and tendons and tissue, that blow – combined with the damage he had done to its other front leg – would have been a crippling one. As it was, the deep gash he cut rapidly restored itself from the darkness swirling about its body, but the howl of rage it drew from the beast itself confirmed that it hadn't been an entirely wasted venture. Then its attention switched back to him and he was running for his life.

Siegrain only stopped his meteoric ascent once breathing became difficult. So high above the battlefield that to those below his glowing body was indistinguishable from the stars, to him, the monster was a tiny speck of darkness and the mage fighting it could not be seen at all. He took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm his pounding heart. What he was about to do took his usual recklessness to an entirely new level – and yet even as the rational part of his mind told him it was suicide, his magic was urging him on, promising him that as long as he had the courage, it would ensure that he survived, no matter what.

And he trusted it. It was not possible to be a mage as powerful as he was without having absolute faith in his own magic. Drawing all that power into himself, he let himself fall back towards the earth. When gravity wasn't enough, he added his own acceleration to the descent, blazing towards the ground like a falling star.

The closer he got to the ground, the more it seemed as though time were slowing down. Distracted by the agile assassin dancing around its feet, the monster didn't see him coming, and he crashed straight into the top of its head. Neither he nor it broke under the immense force, though perhaps both of them should have done. Instead the impact forced its head down onto the ground – just in time for Matthias to dash towards it, his blade held high in both hands.

Except that something wasn't right. Siegrain felt power stirring within the great beast and alarm shot through him. He had not even recovered from the fall when he somehow managed to take off once again. With everything still in slow-motion, he grabbed Matthias and dragged him out of the way before he could land a blow – and an instant later the monster opened its mouth and unleashed an enormous blast of darkness. Its breath attack tore a great cleft in the earth, reaching the ancient coliseum and vaporizing whatever remained of it above the ground.

Siegrain had miscalculated the weight of the larger man and his armour; they travelled no more than a few metres before they were no longer in the air, but rolling along the ground. They came to a stop sprawled in the grass, ears ringing from the sound of that roar, torn between a renewed fear of their opponent and the desire to laugh out loud in the adrenaline of their narrow escape.

"Sorry," Siegrain grinned. "You're heavier than Wendy."

"And this comes as a surprise to you _why,_ exactly?" the older man asked, with raised eyebrows.

"Siegrain!"

At the sound of that sudden shout, both men pushed themselves back to their feet to see Councillor Melchior running towards them. "I thought I told you to stand well back, Councillor," the young mage reprimanded him.

The councillor just shook his head. "It's as you said. The monster is going elsewhere."

He was right – that great shape of darkness had turned its attention away from its opponents. It took one lumbering step away from them, and then another. Siegrain cursed.

"What's it doing?" Matthias asked him. "Running away?"

"No. It wants to destroy, not to fight. Turns out we're not the easy prey it was hoping for, so there's no point in it sticking around and fighting us when there are villages full of civilians who can't even use magic just a short flight away."

They looked at each other in shared despair. Before they could come up with any sort of plan, however, a flicker of magic buzzed at the edge of Siegrain's senses. Intrigued, he glanced towards the monster, only to see it take another step forwards and walk straight into a wall of runes which definitely had not been there a moment ago. Violet letters floated in the air – tiny little lines of light, painstakingly crafted from magic, pulling together to form a barrier that not even the enormous creature's strength could break down. The literal meaning of those ancient runes may have been lost on the two men, but their purpose was all too clear. They surged with a level of power that could only be produced by an entire group of mages combining their knowledge and strength.

The wall of runes was several metres taller than the great beast, and it spread out before their eyes, entrapping it and them in a giant makeshift arena several times larger than the one designed for human combat. Only the Rune Knights could have pulled off such a feat – and to have done it in the face of such a fearsome opponent, despite being scattered and wounded by the collapsing hideout, was only more impressive. Surrounding and trapping the beast like that took courage and coordination, and for a unit whose Captain was under arrest and in no position to be giving out commands, that was no mean feat.

Something of his admiration must have shown on Siegrain's face, because Matthias said, by way of explanation, "That's my little brother for you. He really does pull through in a pinch."

Siegrain gave a faint smile in response, watching the monster try and fail to smash through the barrier with its breath attack. "Of course, this does mean we're trapped in here with it," he commented offhandedly.

"Yeah, I noticed that." They exchanged glances. "I'm sure it's just my brother's way of saying he believes we can win. And speaking of whom…"

"Matthias! Siegrain! Councillor!" Lahar shouted as he ran towards them.

Anything he might have been about to say was lost, however, as Matthias threw his arm around his brother's shoulders. "Good job, li'l bro."

There was a brief flash of joy in the other's eyes, quickly replaced by his usual disapproving scowl. "Don't call me that."

"Ah, my bad." Taking a step back, Matthias raised his arm in a formal salute. "I commend your expert handling of the situation, Sir Knight."

"…I hate you."

Siegrain gave a pointed cough. "Lahar, how long do you think we have on that barrier?"

"I'd say ten minutes, give or take."

"Then we have to finish this before then," said Matthias. It was the only possible course of action, but someone had to say it. Somehow, putting it into words made it feel like it was their choice – like there was a chance it was actually achievable. "It's just shrugging off damage like it's nothing. How are we supposed to kill something that isn't even alive?"

Focussing on a rational approach to distract themselves from the hopelessness of the task wasn't such a bad idea, Siegrain supposed. "I imagine the source lacrima is still within its body somewhere, functioning as a core and holding all the raw energy in that form. If we can break it, there's a possibility that all the magic will just break down and disperse."

"Easier said than done," came the dubious response. "That lacrima could be anywhere."

"True, but magic likes its patterns. My guess would be that it's at the place where the heart would be in a living dragon; that would be the natural form for it to take. How's your knowledge of dragon anatomy?"

Matthias shot him an exasperated look – who in this day and age would possess detailed biological knowledge about a creature that was long extinct? "Sorry, I must have slept through that class."

"Then follow my lead," Siegrain replied, with a slight smile. "It's too dangerous to attack it head-on when it has that breath attack at its disposal. We'll have to go in from above."

"Agreed." Then, one final confirmation: "Let's do this. You and me. Everything that we have."

Their opponent wasn't stupid. Having realized that it couldn't break the barrier by itself, nor hit any of the Knights stood on the far side maintaining it, it turned its attention back to the four men within its reach. Red eyes burned with bottomless hatred; the feral desire for revenge. He and Matthias stared back – two lone champions standing between it and the chance to satiate its hunger with destruction.

And then, at some unspoken signal, they began to run towards it. It took only two steps for Siegrain to overtake the other as golden light wrapped around his body one final time. He bounded along the ground to pick up speed, and then broke free of gravity and soared into the air. Matthias was right: if they were going to do this, they needed to give it everything, and they needed to do it together.

Light danced at his fingertips at he flew. He captured the creature's attention, flashing around its head and neck, just out of reach of its snapping jaws. He struck it repeatedly with bursts of energy and blows from his fists, never enough to actually do any damage to it, but enough to enrage it further, and keep it focussed on him. While he distracted it, Matthias was running up the creature's tail. Siegrain had to guess when he thought the other man would be in position, but he thought he knew him well enough by now to judge his movements correctly.

And he had not been idle in the air either. Now that he had already used this spell in battle, it came a lot more easily to him the second time round. Casting the correct shape into the sky while flying under his own power and also trying to avoid being eaten by a dragon made of darkness – doing all these things at once was effortless. The freedom, the exhilaration, the synergy between his will and his power: this was how it was supposed to be.

He completed the spell; seven golden magic seals shone brighter than the stars in the night sky. _This is all I have. Please, let it be enough to win._ And he released all the power he had been gathering in a rain of light.

The sacred light, the gift of the heavens, punched through the darkness swarming around the monster and pierced deep into its heart. At the same time, Matthias made his move. With that celestial light reflecting along his blade, he leapt into the opening created by that attack and plunged down with all his might, forcing all his raw magic power through the weapon and into the creature's body. It screamed, and then its roar was cut short by a deafening explosion.

The release of power was blinding. The sheer intensity of it overwhelmed their senses, leaving them numb from the divine majesty of it. They were both thrown up into the air by the shockwave. Matthias took the worst of it, falling to earth with his armour charred and smoking from the raw energy, and he staggered to his feet in obvious pain. Since he was already in the air, Siegrain fared slightly better, managing to gather enough of his remaining power to land safely beside him.

"Is that it? Did we do it?" Matthias picked up his knife from where it had fallen, wincing at the heat radiating from the steel. Both of them turned to look as the explosion died away – and the smoke cleared to reveal a hideous silhouette of darkness, roaring its triumph towards the sky.

"Nothing?" Siegrain whispered. "That did _nothing?"_

He stared numbly at his hands. All that power – the two of them giving it everything they had – hadn't even broken through to its core.

"That's it, then," Matthias was saying, with uncharacteristic bleakness. "We're done for."

Lahar watched uncertainly from the side, torn between wanting to dash over to see if his brother was alright and maintaining his usual desired distance. In his hands, a pocket watch continued to tick down the seconds until the barrier collapsed and the monster was free to roam.

The councillor, on the other hand, was studying Siegrain intently. Desperation broke through the usual composure of his voice as he demanded, "You're supposed to be some sort of prodigy, aren't you? Don't you know any stronger spells?"

Matthias gave a dry laugh which quickly became a spluttering choke as the gesture inflamed his wounds. "He just used more power in one go than most mages will possess during their lives, and you're telling him to go do something _stronger?_ "

Melchior was still looking at Siegrain. "Do you?"

"Well…"

There _were_ stronger spells, of course. There was only so much Siegrain had been able to do with three months to develop his own magic through trial and error, and his own discoveries paled into insignificance next to the vast wealth of knowledge sealed within the Council Archives. There were spells developed in the golden age of magic, when Zeref had been at the height of his powers, that far eclipsed anything a single mage was capable of learning today. The councillors were mages themselves, and they could not quite bring themselves to destroy those dreaded dark treatises, just as they did not dare to let them see the light of day; they were hidden away in fear and reverence, where only a select few trustworthy mages would ever be able to see them. There was magic so devastatingly destructive that even though it was incomplete, or theoretically impossible, or unfeasible in practice, the mere threat of some genius finding and completing it was enough to ensure it had to be sealed forever.

Over the past few months Siegrain had barely been able to scratch the surface of what was lost down there. The records were so fragmented and complex that most of what he had found was magic to learn _about,_ not magic to learn. And that knowledge was vital when dealing with dark mages and enemies of the Council, but magic he couldn't wield himself wasn't going to help him win this fight.

If he thought himself capable of casting a stronger spell, he'd have done so from the start. He wouldn't be having doubts now.

Their best option in this situation was still the one he had advocated from the beginning: to run. He could do that, even if the others wanted to stay. He had more than enough power left to get him up and out of the barrier, and put some distance between him and that monster before it was set free. It was obviously the right decision. Obviously. And when the only other choice was going back in against an enemy which had shrugged off his and Matthias's combined attack like it was nothing, there was no competition whatsoever.

So why wasn't that the response coming out of his mouth? "There's one more I know of that might be able to break through… one I found records of in the Council Archives."

Matthias raised his eyebrows. "I don't think anyone is going to care if it's forbidden magic or not right now."

"That's not the point. I've only read about it. I know how it works in theory, but I've never been able to use it before. I can't stabilize it. After it fell apart on me four or five times, I gave learning it up as a lost cause before it could backfire and put me in hospital."

The others exchanged glances. "Well, it's not like we have any better ideas," Matthias observed.

"Four minutes on the barrier," Lahar added glumly. "At best…"

"Will you try it, Siegrain?"

Would he try it? In other words, would he attempt something that would probably kill him, and even if it didn't, would reveal the true depths of his power to these people from the Council?

Of course he wouldn't.

He'd have to be completely insane.

But there was a feeling within him, and he couldn't refuse it, no more than he could comprehend or place it. There was a part of him that he didn't understand, and it was that which spoke.

"I'll try it. Get ready to run when it doesn't work, though."

The three of them backed off to a safe distance. All awareness of them rapidly vanished from his senses as he closed his eyes and turned his mind inwards.

The principles behind this spell were deceptively straightforward – it was the conditions on its activation that were almost impossible to fulfil. The last recorded instance of its use was over thirty years ago, and even then it had taken four mages working in unison to invoke it, all of whom had been at the very top of their chosen disciplines. Achieving that level of mastery took a lifetime of work; for one person to attain that control in not one but four separate types of magic was impossible.

Of course, the very idea of a 'type' of magic was a purely human construct. Go back far enough, and all magic came from the same source. Still, those fictitious categories that the human psyche created were pervasive. Even if the power first awakening within a young mage was unformed, the personality and ideals and aspirations of the mage themselves guided it into a certain, preferred form almost immediately. The more a caster grew used to magic in a particular form, the harder it became to imagine wielding it in another. Learning additional kinds of magic, especially if very different to their first type, became progressively harder with each new form, and thus a spell which required four types of magic to activate had needed four mages working together to cast it.

He was no different; his magic had had a well-defined form from the moment he had first become aware of it. He had never felt the need to learn elemental magic, or summoning magic, or anything else of that kind – nothing would suit him quite as well as the magic he currently used, and hence nothing would be as powerful in his hands.

Specialization into a certain discipline was commonplace purely because it was an easy route to power. It meant unrivalled understanding of a very narrow field, which led to advanced magic techniques within that field, and hence strong combat abilities. But this great strength was also a weakness. Mages were masters within their own branch of magic and ignorant of other branches, even hostile towards them, blind to the fact that they all came from the same source; that they were more alike than they could possibly imagine.

The old mages had known it, though. Zeref had known it. References to the one great magic at the core of everything were everywhere in the ancient literature – in books that were all too frequently to be found on the Magic Council's index of banned texts. Magic that could only be used by certain people fulfilling certain conditions; magic that had been lost to time; magic 'belonging' to a particular race or person – all these trivial conditions, while absolute rules to anyone obeying the implicit specialization of magic so prevalent in modern society, became meaningless when magic was used in its purest, most primal form.

No, he couldn't fulfil the conditions to cast this magic. No one could alone. Learning four utterly different and contradictory types of elemental magic was impossible, let alone being able to use each one at the required level of understanding. But he didn't need to satisfy those conditions if he could subvert them.

His _other_ magic, the one that was his to wield but did not belong to him, was a primal magic. It was closer to the true source at the heart of everything than anything else he had ever encountered. It was free-flowing, undefined, versatile; it could analyse, mimic, corrupt and deconstruct other types of magic – static forms like seals and defences in particular – with ease. Of course, awareness of that method of using magic was insufficient on its own – he had to have complete understanding of the elemental forms he needed if he was going to replicate them well enough to bypass the activation conditions on this spell. But his knowledge of magic was unrivalled amongst his peers. He knew exactly what needed to be done.

Which was all well and good in theory. Actually _doing_ it was another matter entirely. He hadn't lied when he had told the others that he had never been able to cast it before. When he had tried it with the primal magic locked away inside him, he had been able to get it to imitate the four elemental forms easily. He just hadn't been able to execute the spell. The devastating power of it came from the violent conflict between its component parts; it fought not just against his control, but against itself, and he had not been able to prevent it from self-destructing for long enough to use it.

With his other magic, the situation had been reversed. He could easily draw out sufficient power to hold the spell together. On the other hand, that magic was too well-defined. It had its own preferred form; coaxing it into abandoning that shape and taking on not one but four distinct, alien forms at once was too difficult a task for him to do, especially while maintaining concentration on the vast amount of energy needed to use the spell in the first place.

No matter which route he took, or how hard he tried, the spell always fell apart before he could complete it. There was no logical reason why attempting it in the middle of combat would produce better results than in training, but if he _could_ somehow pull it off, the destruction that could be wrought with it might be their only chance of winning… and he had promised them that he would try.

His internal power source was far too depleted to consider attempting it with anything less than his own natural magic, and even then it would be touch and go whether he had enough energy left to summon it. The moment he began trying to shape his magic, the pain of all his injuries – which adrenaline and resolve had allowed him to push aside until now – suddenly flared up a hundred times worse than before. Fatigue made concentration difficult. It was as far as possible from the free, intuitive way his magic had flowed earlier. It adored him, and was desperate to please him, but that didn't make it any easier for it to change into an entirely different form.

But if he couldn't make this work, he would die here.

Fire and water, air and earth. Creating them was easy; maintaining them, less so. The moment he turned his attention away from one aspect of the spell to focus on another, the first began to lose its shape. The captured elements raged against each other in fury, making it more and more difficult to contain the closer it grew to completion. Power surged through the air around him; sparks of raw magic, uncontrolled and dangerous, flickered at his fingertips and left scorch marks on his skin.

As if from miles away, he heard someone shouting his name. A warning. Matthias, probably. Opening his eyes, he slowly returned to the real world. The great demonic beast was glaring directly at him, even as it opened its mouth in preparation to unleash its breath attack. He felt a stab of fear – and almost lost control of the spell.

 _No!_

He was not going to run, and he was not going to give up. Drawing upon all his willpower, he brought his hands together and fused all that elemental magic into an enormous golden seal in front of him.

If he had been listening, he might have heard someone behind him murmuring, "Is that…? No, it can't be. It's impossible…"

But he wasn't listening. Even the image of the monster preparing to wipe him out had been erased from his mind. That magic was his entire being.

And he could feel it falling apart. The golden seal shimmered, flickered, began to disintegrate. It wasn't stable. "No, no, no!" he yelled at it, the grief and the frustration tearing up his own voice. "Come on, COME ON!"

There was a feeling like shattering glass in his mind. Fractures ran through the seal in front of him, reflecting the state of the magic that could not be seen. And he knew, with utter certainly, that it wasn't going to work. This was exactly what had happened last time. He had done everything he could, and it had not been enough to win.

It was not with fear that he looked up as the waves of darkness from the monster's mouth descended upon him, but with hopelessness. This was where everything ended, both for him and for those who – for the shortest space of time – he had fought alongside. Black energy surged around him, coursing through his body, sending unimaginable flares of pain through him until he found himself praying that it would just come to an end and let him leave this world of suffering-

"SIEGRAIN!"

No, that couldn't be right. That voice was definitely a product of his imagination. Perhaps it was a memory – one of those flashbacks supposedly promised to us right before death. It certainly wasn't real. It couldn't be. There was no way he could be hearing her voice from here. Right now, Wendy was safely back in her guild, probably playing board games with that cat or whatever it was she did to pass the time. She certainly wasn't fighting her way towards him through the malevolent storm, shouting out his name.

 _Typical of that girl. Does her recklessness know no bounds?_

In that instant, all thoughts of dying went straight out of his head. He didn't care if she was an illusion, or a hallucination induced by a mind which sought comfort on the edge of death. Despite the black wind that lashed at him like blades, he ran towards her, not hesitating until he had wrapped both his arms around her and pulled her close.

But even as he was trying to shield her from the onslaught with his body, she was trying to protect him too. He could feel her magic entering him – healing magic, probing for the damage he had taken and trying to repair it; support magic, bolstering his own defences and helping to repel the attack. Even when the black storm vanished and he found with some amazement that not only was he still alive, but that the Wendy in his arms was entirely real, she was still pouring all her magic into him in an attempt to help.

He gave her a gentle shake. "Hey, Wendy, that's enough," he told her, but not unkindly. "I'm alright now. If you keep that up, you'll only wear yourself out."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a beaming smile. Fortunately, she did take his advice and stop her reckless use of magic, allowing him to step away from her and glance around. To his relief, he saw that the other three men had been outside the blast range of the breath attack, and had survived unscathed. Lahar was holding a little winged cat in his hands.

"Sorry," Matthias said, with a grin. "We tried to stop her from jumping into that attack, but she was too quick for us."

Siegrain blinked at them and then looked back at Wendy. "Wait a minute… Wendy, what on earth are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you," came her matter-of-fact reply, as if that somehow justified her chasing him all the way out here and throwing herself into danger with no thought for her own safety.

"But…" He gave up. He couldn't even pretend to be cross – not when he was so glad to see her. "But how did you get here?"

"Carla flew me here."

He glanced at the cat, who lay in Lahar's arms, too exhausted to even support her own weight. It wasn't just from physical exertion – he could sense that her internal magic power, which was presumably tied to her ability to manifest her wings, was at a dangerously low level for someone already afflicted by a fever. "She brought you all the way here, even though she's so ill?" There could be no mistaking the admiration in his voice. "Impressive. I never thought I'd meet anyone else as reckless as you, Wendy."

The cat glanced away haughtily to hide her embarrassment. "Well, Wendy was so worried about you that she couldn't focus on anything else, so we had to come and rescue you."

"And there I thought you didn't like me."

"I don't. I didn't do it for you, obviously." Carla pulled a face. "But if you were the one who'd stayed with her… you'd have done the same, wouldn't you? So maybe you're not so bad, after all."

"I told you so," Wendy cheered, though this only served to make the cat harrumph indignantly and turn away again.

"I'm grateful that you both arrived when you did, but… you shouldn't have come here. You're only putting yourselves in danger against an opponent we've already proven that we can't beat."

Matthias interjected from the sidelines in a voice that was half-amused and half-disbelieving. "Speaking of which, Siegrain, did you just attempt to do a four-person Unison Raid by yourself?"

The other gave a shrug. "I did tell you it probably wasn't going to work."

"Well, yeah, of course it wasn't! It's categorically impossible for a mage to do something like that alone. Only you would be crazy enough to even try it!"

Siegrain was perfectly willing to accept that statement as true. It had always been a long shot. Wendy, on the other hand, was not, and with her usual childish indignation, she leapt to the defence of her best friend. "It was _not_ crazy! I was watching, and it's definitely possible! I know Siegrain can do it!"

The others, taken aback by her fiery defiance, had no response to this. Siegrain just chuckled, ruffling her hair fondly. "As always, Wendy, I'm flattered by your faith in me, but Matthias is right."

She stuck her bottom lip out sulkily. "No, he's not. You could do it if you used your _other_ magic."

Siegrain stilled. He turned to her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and stared at her intently. She stared back, a little bewildered by his actions, but unwavering in her certainty nonetheless.

In that moment, the presence of the Council mages was all but forgotten by the two of them. This was no longer friendly chatter between a little girl and the best friend she idolized – it was a discussion between one mage with an unparalleled technical knowledge of magic, and another who knew little of the specific details, but who had an instinct for it that most magic-users would kill for.

Carefully, he told her, "I can't do it, not even with that magic. I've tried; it won't stabilize."

"I didn't mean that. You have to use both at once."

Both at once? It wasn't as if he hadn't considered the possibility, it just wasn't as simple as that. The relationship between the two aspects of his magic was a complex one. To say that they hated each other would have been too strong a word, but there was a subtle element of resentment there. At the heart of the matter, they were simply too different to be used in tandem. They had different desires, different forms, different relationships with him, different methods of activation – and when it came to magic, little details like that were what drew the line between what was possible and what was not. Using them at the same time in ordinary combat – let alone in the construction of such a powerful spell – was impossible.

Surely to Wendy, if she could truly perceive both aspects of his magic with that acute vision of hers, something like that would be obvious. It was with puzzlement in his voice that he told her, "I can't use them both together. You know I can't."

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "That's because you've never had me helping you before."

She said it as if it were the most obvious thing ever. It wasn't until she took his hands in her own that he understood what she was getting at. Wendy's magic was kind, just like she was. It was strongest when helping others. That was why, in its natural form, it could heal and support where most magic was suited only for destruction or survival. Perhaps that pure, unadulterated kindness, which found such wonder in the world, could bridge the divide within himself. If she wove that magic into a strong enough support spell, might she be able to stabilize his own?

Not everyone was as calm as the two of them, however. Lahar was glancing anxiously between the two friends, who were still conversing quietly as equals, and the giant monster of darkness, which was gathering its energy for another cataclysmic breath attack. Neither Siegrain nor Wendy appeared to have noticed its imminent strike. He started forwards to shake some sense into them, only to find his brother's arm resting against his chest, holding him back.

"Trust them," was all Matthias said.

The Knight gave a vigorous shake of his head. "That monster is about to attack again, and this time, we'll all be caught up in it. We need to get out of here while we still can."

"Give them until the very last minute."

Siegrain felt Wendy's power swirling around them with the experience and control of someone far older. Her hands were warm in his. That smile, that indomitable faith in him – if there was anything that could overcome the memory of his recent failure, surely it was that. This was so much more than just a battle. He wanted to win for reasons he couldn't even put his finger on; he was driven by a passion he didn't fully understand – but looking at Wendy, with her eyes shut and her brow creased in concentration, he thought that maybe he was beginning to get a handle on what it was that was motivating him.

He called forth his own dark power, and it jumped eagerly at his touch. He sensed more than saw Wendy recoil from it. Her fingers tightened reflexively around his. She was being brave, in the hope that he wouldn't notice her fear, but how could he not, when the two of them were the only ones in the entire world?

"Wendy," he said, softly, "You're afraid of this magic, aren't you? You did ask me never to use it, after all."

"I did say that, but… I realized that I was wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Wrong to be afraid. Because, you see, Siegrain, it doesn't matter where that magic comes from. The one controlling it is still you. And I trust you." She opened her eyes and gave him the broadest, most incredible smile he had ever seen. "I can feel it. You want to save everyone, don't you?"

 _Is that… what this feeling is?_

The desire to protect other people. So unfamiliar he had not been able to put a name to it himself, and yet so fundamental a part of him that he had not been able to fully shut it out.

Images flashed through his mind in rapid succession. Putting everything on the line to save a Knight Captain he despised. Racing through the forest to rescue Wendy on that first day they had met, even though he had known full well that her survival would only cause him problems in the future. And even before that, a vision of a time he had all but forgotten: him, a child once again, with wrists so thin from malnourishment that the manacles could have slipped off at any moment, taking the blame for an escape plan that had not been his-

All actions he had taken without thinking. All feats which defied rational explanation. There was, somewhere deep within him, an instinct that drove him to protect those around him, and it was every bit as strong as the instinct that drove him to destroy. He could bury it as much as he wanted, but he could never erase it completely.

He glanced from Wendy, whose faith in him was absolute, to the cat who had brought her to him despite her own suffering, and his colleagues who stood with her. If he could not kill this monster, every one of them would die. Their lives depended on his success. And more than the desire to win, more than the desire to complete his plan, more even than the desire to save his own life, that one thought lent him unimaginable power.

Because Wendy was right.

 _I want to protect those who are depending on me._

 _Wendy. Matthias, Lahar, Carla, Melchior. The Rune Knights, who will have nothing left to defend themselves with once the barrier falls. The civilians in the local villages, who will be consumed by this monster in the time it takes for help to arrive. The guild mages, who will fight and lose their lives before this enemy can finally be subdued. Everyone that this thing will hurt if it gets free. Right here, and right now, there is nothing in the world I want more than to protect all of them._

 _For their sake, I will make a miracle happen._

All doubt in his mind had vanished. He didn't notice that Wendy had let go of his hands and stepped away from him, or that Matthias had moved to catch her before she could fall to the ground, exhausted from overexertion of her magic. He saw only his opponent, and what he needed to do.

His primal magic, slipping out of the shape it usually took, drew upon the essence of the four elemental forms he needed. In between, stabilizing them and acting as a channel through which he could pour energy into them, flowed the magic that he had been born to. Then, synthesizing the borders between them and uniting their conflicting desires, was the power Wendy had lent him, fearless and compassionate in equal measure, just like she was. And above it all, shaping and controlling the spell, was that wish to save everyone, so forceful that it could draw out every last fragment of the incredible power sealed within his body.

This time, the great magic seal that he summoned did not waver. It was neither the gold nor the violet colour belonging to either of his sources of magic, but a fusion of the two: a pure, majestic silver, driving back the despair of the night. Not even when the monster unleashed its breath attack towards him did he falter. The sheer concentration of the magic in the air around him turned away the darkness. Scattered and broken, the unholy storm dispersed, leaving him and those he was protecting completely unharmed.

The monster did not show fear, because it was a creature of pure hatred, and it knew no emotion other than the urge to destroy and destroy and destroy until nothing was left. But there was a look which entered its eyes at that moment. It might have been acceptance of the inevitable, or acknowledgement of a superior opponent.

Whatever it felt in that moment, it was to be the last thing that it would ever know, because that was when Siegrain released his spell.

Those watching would have been forgiven for thinking that the world was ending. It was, after all, the most logical explanation for that astronomical release of power, so great it terrified even its wielder. Four incompatible elements combined to devastating effect. In between the blinding light and the wailing of the sky and the trembling of the earth, a rift was torn through space itself.

Only afterwards, when the magic died away and the apocalypse decided it would spare them its full might for a little while longer, could they see the damage it had caused. The plains had been split in two. Where before there had been unbroken grassland as far as the eye could see, there was now a great fissure in the earth, starting at Siegrain's feet and racing off towards the horizon. It was a few metres wide and so deep that it may as well have led all the way down to the underworld, as if the earth had simply been carved open by a titanic divine blade.

That might have been the best explanation, in fact, as the demonic creature, which had been standing above the place where the rift now ran, had simply been ripped in two by the same force that had opened up the earth. Its constituent halves were presently dissolving into black smoke and fading in the wind, while shards of shattered lacrima fell like crystal rain from its core. Likewise, the Rune Knights' barrier behind it, supposedly impervious to all magic, had been unable to contain the released power and now sported an enormous hole. The fissure stretched on into the distance for as far as the eye could see; to their good fortune, there was nothing else out there in the wilderness for his spell to have destroyed.

For a long moment, no one moved or spoke or even, so it seemed, dared to breathe.

And then, with a sudden bluntness, Matthias found a way to put the entire group's feelings into words: "Bloody hell."

It was with a sort of detached whisper that Lahar asked, "Did you just cast Abyss Break… by yourself?"

"Not by myself," Siegrain corrected him calmly. "Wendy helped."

"Only a little," she protested. "You can do it by yourself from now on, can't you?"

"Now that I've done it once, almost certainly. Thank you, Wendy."

"But that's… that's just impossible," the Knight objected.

"Try telling that to our opponent," Siegrain grinned.

They all glanced as one over to where the enormous monster of darkness had been standing only a minute earlier.

And then the fact that the battle was over seemed to hit all at once. Numbing awe suddenly became unrestrained jubilation. There was shouting, cheering, singing – not just from their little group, but from the Rune Knights too, thundering across the plains. Praise, victory, and that soaring elation brought the night to life.

Lahar was still staring at him open-mouthed; the councillor was clapping him on the back; Carla was cheering; Matthias had thrown his arm around his shoulders and was congratulating him loudly; and in the middle of it all, Wendy leapt into his arms, and he lifted her up and swung her round, both of them laughing in sheer, beautiful exultation.

This life was one worth fighting for, wasn't it?

There was so much in this world worth protecting. There was so much beauty, and so much joy, and so many little things made invaluable by the love of those who lived this life alongside him. He wondered how much of this beautiful world he would be able to experience before the Tower was ready to be used.

 _Would it really be so bad if the Tower never reached completion?_

He felt as though there should have been an obvious answer to that question, but right there, in that moment, he couldn't quite remember what it was.

* * *

Long after the Council's task force had left the scene, a young woman stood alone on the edge of that brand new fissure in the earth. Dark clouds hid the moon and stars; the only light came from a lacrima floating an inch or two above her outstretched palm. She leaned over the edge of the crack with a look of rapt fascination on her face. If there was a bottom to it, then she could not make it out.

"Are you seeing this?" she asked, even though there was no one around to hear her. "Abyss Break. He did it by himself. He really is something, isn't he? It almost makes me wish we'd got him to join our guild. With magic like that, he belongs with us."

She smiled slightly in response to a voice that only she could hear.

"No, no, I agree, he is far more useful to us where he is now. That being said, he does appear to be getting a little… distracted. It would be rather embarrassing if our attempt to bring down the Magic Council from within ended with us accidentally delivering them the most powerful and loyal asset they've had in years. Perhaps it's time for me to step in."

There was another eerie pause, and then she frowned. "If only it were that simple, Master. How do you expect magic which plays on the insecurities of its victims to affect a man who's so… _content?_ He's not the terrified, broken boy I met in the Tower any more. He's become strong – strong in magic, and strong in himself."

She shifted her weight from foot to foot in response to that inaudible voice, a resentful gesture that no one was around to see, although her voice remained perfectly mild. "I know. I was careless. I thought I would be able to leave him to get on with it while I remained in the guild, but it seems as if that is no longer an option. I'll need to take a leave of absence from the guild, of course… Well, for as long as it takes, really. This was my mistake. I'll be the one to fix it."

And in the silence, she gave a sudden laugh. "Am I really that transparent, Master? You're right; I've been wanting to meet him as myself for a while now. It's rare for someone as fascinating as him to come along… Yes, I understand. Thank you, Master. Just focus on finding the keys, and leave Jellal to me."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** As promised, a big chapter to wrap up the raid storyline. I've been saving Abyss Break for an event like this. I don't feel that enough fuss is made in canon over the fact that Jellal can do, apparently with very little effort, something that takes Phantom Lord four S-Class Mages and a giant mecha to pull off. (Well I don't think Jellal gets enough credit in general, but hey). There is far more to being a Wizard Saint than simply being powerful, and so I wanted to show him not only defeating an unstoppable enemy, but doing so in a way that ought to be impossible by using his knowledge to circumvent the laws of magic. After this, Jellal's exceptional skills as a mage will be taken as a given, by me and by the other characters. Hopefully I've managed to justify why he deserves that title._

 _And with that, we've reached the halfway point of the story! Thanks to everyone who has stuck around so far. There's a lot of fun stuff still to come (Ultear isn't going to let me pretend she doesn't exist any more, for one thing), and I hope you'll stay with me and Jellal and Wendy for whatever the second half may bring! ~CS_


	17. Ceremony

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Ceremony for the Advancement of Wizard Saints-**

 **February, X782**

Winter was Lahar's favourite time of the year. The crunch of the morning frost beneath his boots; the way his breath rose up to the sky in little spirals; the privilege of coming in from the cold and relaxing by a crackling fire – they were all things he counted as amongst life's little pleasures. He loved the way that the city sparkled with lanterns when the night came early, somehow even more welcoming than when it blossomed in the full beauty of summer. In the crisp, chill air, everything seemed so clear. The perpetual grey of the skies wasn't so bad when it also entailed the ever-present promise of snow.

And far from being gloomy, the darkest season brought out the best in people. The cold weather was simply an excuse to wrap up warmly in vivid colours and carry on business as usual in spite of the elements. That was the indomitable human spirit, unfaltering no matter what the world threw at it. There was always a spark of pride that rekindled itself in his heart when his regular patrol route brought him through the market at the centre of Era, and he could see all the usual shopkeepers working even harder to sell their wares, warming up the afternoon with their enthusiasm and determination.

He usually ran into people he knew in the market, and though he wasn't technically allowed to stop and talk to them while on patrol, he always did. Today was no different. Following his weekly enquiry into the health of the florist's newborn twin daughters, and a long discussion with a fishmonger he knew about the effect of the recent cold snap on the price of haddock, he spotted three familiar figures walking towards him: a certain blue-haired young man, the collar of his long coat turned up against the chill; a girl just over half his age and just under half his height trotting along beside him, clutching a steaming paper cup with both hands; and a little white cat, wearing a hand-knitted woollen coat and bobble hat, floating along between them.

They saw him at the same time he saw them. Siegrain raised his hand in greeting; Wendy, less subtle, shouted his name with her usual abundance of joy and dragged the other two over to say hello properly.

Ah, well. His patrol was almost over anyway.

"Hey, Wendy," he greeted her. "What are you up to today? Shopping?"

"Nope." She shook her head vigorously. "Just came to get some hot chocolate on the way to the train station. There's a shop over there that sells the absolute _best_ hot chocolate and I wanted Siegrain to try it, but then it turned out neither he nor Carla liked it so this is my third cup. Want to try some?"

Overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, the Knight was about to say yes out of politeness, but he caught Siegrain and Carla urgently gesturing at him to turn it down, just outside Wendy's line of sight, and decided to trust them and shake his head. "I'd better not. I am on duty, after all."

"Aww," she said in sympathy, before gulping down half the steaming liquid in one go.

"Is it really that bad?" Lahar asked Siegrain quietly, who gave a grim nod.

"It's actually alright until she puts three shots of syrup in. I don't know how she can physically stomach that stuff. I swear, that girl has the constitution of a dragon."

"I see." Lahar gave a rueful smile. "Anyway, Siegrain, where on earth have you been this past week? I was looking everywhere for you."

"Ah, sorry about that. Wendy, Carla and I were on a top-secret mission."

"Oh?"

"Using documents recovered from the R-System we destroyed, I narrowed down the location of one of the other systems to an uninhabited coastal region in the south-west of Fiore. The only way to actually find it, however, was to search the area by hand – so that's what we did."

Wendy gave Lahar a sage nod. "Basically, we went camping."

"Camping?" The Knight stared at her, aghast. "It's far too cold to be camping at this time of the year!"

Wendy pouted. "That's what Siegrain said too. He's such a wimp. In my guild, we live in tents all year round. But _no,_ he managed one night out in a tent and then insisted that we had to stay in a hotel for the rest of the trip. Seriously, we could have found the enemy base in half the time if we hadn't had to keep running back and forth to the nearest village every morning and night so that we could sleep in a hotel…"

"Alright, alright," Siegrain muttered, disgruntled. "I'm sorry for liking hot running water…"

Trying to fight back a smile, Lahar inquired, "Did you find it? This… enemy base?" he added, using Wendy's words.

"We did," Siegrain informed him. "They're set up in a network of abandoned smuggling caves carved into the cliff face. Flushing them out will require a major operation, though. After we captured the first R-System, the others are bound to be on high alert – we stayed back, relying on Wendy's ability to locate the system itself, since we didn't dare get any closer. But even at that distance, we counted at least six separate escape routes from the caves. Destroying the system will be fairly straightforward; at the very least, we can bring down the tunnels on top of it. It's capturing or otherwise eliminating the perpetrators that will require careful action on our part."

"Agreed. We should begin planning for it as soon as possible."

"And you'll bring me along this time, right?" Wendy piped up brightly.

"Of course," Siegrain smiled. "You and Carla are always welcome, if you want to come."

Carla gave a pointed cough. "But maybe that's a discussion for another day. There was a _reason_ why we were heading for the train station, remember, Wendy?"

"Ah! The train! We're going to miss it! Goodbye, Lahar! Goodbye, Siegrain! I'll see you soon!" Pausing only to wave at the two men, Wendy scrambled after Carla, doing her best to keep up and not spill any of her hot chocolate at the same time.

Siegrain kept a careful eye on them until they had entered the grand station, and then he turned back to Lahar. "So, what was it you wanted me for?" At the Knight's confused look, he prompted, "You said you had been looking for me while I was out camping with Wendy."

"Oh. Right. Are you heading back to Headquarters?"

"I need to go and report in, yes."

"Okay." Lahar began walking back to the Council building along the final stretch of his patrol route, and the other fell into step beside him, waiting patiently for him to speak. "Well, I wanted to congratulate you, really. By the time I'd heard that the Council have finally stopped dragging their heels and are making you a Wizard Saint, you'd already left on that camping trip. I just wanted to say how impressive it was that you'd achieved a position like that. You deserve it."

"Thank you." Coming from the sincere Knight, that did mean a lot. Siegrain wasn't really one for that kind of solemnity, though, so he decided to move the conversation swiftly on. "Matthias isn't too upset, is he?"

"Not at all. He completely agreed it should be you and not him. In fact, out of everyone, he was probably your most vocal advocate. It wasn't just that he couldn't do what you did, but that he still can't work out how you did it, even though it's his job to know things like that." The Knight's expression was neutral, though there was a slight, subtle cheer to his voice; perhaps he thought it was a good thing that his overachieving elder brother had been forced to settle for second place.

"Congratulations on your promotion, by the way," Siegrain added. "Making Knight Captain at your age is no mean feat. Keep this up, and you'll be bossing your brother around in no time."

He had been expecting at least a smile at that, but if anything, the Knight's expression grew even more severe. Interesting. The silence stretched out as Siegrain waited patiently for him to explain himself. Someone else might just have changed the subject if they didn't want to have this conversation, but the Knight's manners wouldn't allow him to openly ignore a compliment like that.

So he said, in a somewhat subdued voice, "About that… I heard a rumour that I only got the position because you put a good word in for me with the Council. Is that true?"

Siegrain thought for a moment about how to reply. "It's true that I did that, although I'm flattered you think my opinion is the only factor the Council took into consideration when making their decision."

"Why did you do it?"

"Why?" Siegrain echoed, mystified by the sudden accusation in his companion's voice.

"Yeah, why? I don't want… to owe you anything."

Ah. Well, now he understood. A young Knight, growing up in the shadow of an elder brother who was, up until the Council's resolution of the Wizard Saint matter a week ago, officially the Council's top-ranked agent – he had probably always had to contend with being seen as Matthias's younger brother, and not as his own person. He wanted to stand on his own; to prove himself as an individual; to achieve things on his own merit. Being given an early promotion because of his brother's influence, or because of assistance from his wary friendship with a certain Wizard Saint-to-be, was the last thing that he sought. He didn't want to be dependent on anyone else.

"You don't owe me anything," he replied carefully – and, whether the Knight believed it or not, his words were completely honest. "I wasn't intending to tell you, let alone hold it over you. I simply gave the Council my honest opinion when asked, which was that you were the most suitable candidate to take over Bartley's unit."

"There are plenty of people more qualified than me, and more senior too-"

"But when disaster struck in the field and we were attacked by that monster, the one who took charge was you. You're the one who rounded up the scattered Knights and got them organized enough to prevent it from escaping. If you hadn't acted when you did, hundreds of people would have died. The ability to stay calm, remain in control, and take action in the face of unbelievable danger – that's the most important qualification for being a Captain, and no one who was there on that day has that more than you do."

"But…"

"If it makes you feel any better, I could tell you that, as Carla would perhaps say, I didn't do it for you. It's important for me that the best person has the job. It's no secret that the moment I officially become a Wizard Saint, the job of finding and destroying all the R-Systems will be taken away from Councillor Byron and given to me. That means I'm going to need to work closely with the Rune Knights going forward, and I need to know that I can depend on the Captain to pull through when necessary. Of course, there's no guarantee we'll be working together in the future, but the principle remains the same."

The Knight didn't say anything for a long time; Siegrain guessed that the lack of further protests meant that he had accepted at least some of what he had been saying. When he did speak, his tone was noticeably less severe. "When is the ceremony for that, anyway?"

"Not for another couple of months, I don't think. This entire process seems to have been going on forever. I swear they were already halfway through nominating a new Wizard Saint back when Wendy and I went to the beach. If they've already made their decision, I don't see why they can't just give me the badge and get it over with."

"Legal issues?" the Knight shrugged. "Besides, the ceremony itself is important."

"It's a waste of time."

"Maybe to you, but it's important publicity for the Council and its supporters, and your family will want to see it too, won't they?"

Siegrain couldn't help laughing at that. "Family? My parents are dead, and I _could_ invite Jellal, but I don't think the Council would be thrilled if he actually turned up."

"What about Wendy?"

"Wendy's not family."

"She's not? I thought she was your sister."

"People often assume that, but no, we're not related at all," he replied, shaking his head.

"What is she to you, then?"

"She's… useful, I suppose."

Lahar stared at him for a long moment, and then snorted. Ironic that the one time he was being completely honest was the one time Lahar didn't believe a word he was saying. "Say what you like. You may not be her biological brother, but no one who's seen the two of you together can deny that you're just as close as real siblings, even if you are too proud to say it out loud. Invite her to the ceremony. I think she'll enjoy it."

"Alright, I will."

That settled, they walked along in silence for a little while. The Knights on duty nodded to them respectfully as they passed through the gates of the Council Headquarters. "Anyway," Lahar began, "I'm heading to the training grounds now, so I'll catch you later."

He hadn't been expecting a reply, and he jumped when Siegrain called him back before he had gone more than two paces. "Lahar! Who was it who told you that I had suggested you be made Captain?"

"I believe it was Councillor Melchior who mentioned it in passing, why?"

"Was it now?" Siegrain mused, not answering the question. "Interesting."

"Is something going on between the two of you?" inquired the Knight. "I thought he was your patron, wasn't he? He certainly did well out of the R-System raid."

"I'm not sure," came the predictably non-committal answer, and he didn't say anything else.

Lahar sighed, though his hesitation came from a completely difference source. "I, uh… I want to apologize for how I acted earlier. I am grateful that you're putting your faith in me as a Captain."

Siegrain's gaze flashed to him for a brief moment. "Don't worry about it. I look forward to working with you in the future."

As the Knight nodded and strode off, Siegrain found himself gazing up at the grand Council building, lost in thought. He had left the welcoming marketplace behind, and was back once more amongst the lofty spires and the frost-laced ancient stone. It was a reminder. On the battlefield, everything was simple. The promise of danger made allies out of anyone. In the political arena, however, the opposite was true. Threat, competition, and conflict of interests made enemies of friends. He could not let his guard down for a moment.

For a year and a half now he had been out in the field on the Council's behalf, where the battles were straightforward and the rules hadn't changed since life had begun. But that beautiful simplicity couldn't last forever in a game like this. Becoming a Wizard Saint was far more than just a recognition of his powers – it was a political title, one carrying so much more weight than just being an agent of the Council, even the highest-ranked one. The existence of a new Wizard Saint unaffiliated with any of the guilds – one that belonged, as far as they were aware, entirely to the Council – was a major political development, one likely to cause a great deal of upheaval amongst the current power balance.

He had become far too accustomed to his present life, when he knew full well there was only so far he could get by simply being a powerful mage. Perhaps he had been subconsciously putting off entering the political arena, but if so, continuing to do that would be fatally naïve. Going forwards, he would have to start being more careful, especially when it came to those who claimed to be his allies.

If he really intended to do this, he couldn't afford to hang around. Death was no longer necessarily the price of failure – but neither could success be obtained simply by learning new, more powerful magic. He had thought the most dangerous part of this game was over, now that he had been cleared of all suspicion and even nominated as a Wizard Saint, but it seemed it was only just beginning.

If only everything could be as enjoyable as fighting as part of a team. It was with something of a heavy heart that he dragged his eyes away from the overcast sky and headed towards the Council chamber.

* * *

"Siegrain, do you have a moment?"

The familiar, slick voice of Councillor Melchior cut through his deep thoughts, forcing him back to the real world. He pinpointed the direction of that voice with his usual sharp accuracy and turned to see the councillor sticking his head out of a nearby doorway.

"Of course," he said smoothly, following the other into the small room beyond. "What can I help you with, Councillor?"

The room beyond was completely ordinary, a simple space which Council employees used to hold informal meetings in. Besides him and the councillor, however, there was another person in the room, and she was not ordinary at all. She was sat neatly on one of the sofas, her hands in her lap and her knees drawn together as if to take up as little space as possible; a familiar symptom of nerves. She was a beautiful young woman, probably slightly older than he was, and the kind who took a certain level of pride in her appearance – going by the modest use of make-up, perfectly trimmed fringe, and straight, sleek dark hair that fell all the way to her waist.

She wore the textbook white blouse and grey pencil skirt of someone who worked in the more mundane side of the Magic Council's operation, but she wore them slightly uncomfortably, as if she wasn't quite used to them. He could hardly blame her for that. He always wore a battle-ready outfit around the Council as was his prerogative as an agent, and Matthias had that armour which he never seemed to take off – no doubt if either of the two of them ever had to wear a suit, they would look just as out of place as she did.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet," said the councillor, almost unnecessarily by this point.

She stood up politely as they entered the room, inclining her head in a gesture of respect. Melchior stepped swiftly between them. "Siegrain, this is Ultear Milkovich."

Though this sudden introduction had piqued his curiosity, he did not forget how he was supposed to behave in such a situation. "Nice to meet you," he said courteously, shaking her hand.

"And you." Her gaze met his for a brief moment before dipping shyly down to the floor. "I've heard a lot about you."

 _And yet I've heard nothing about you_ , he thought, but he refrained from saying it out loud, instead choosing a more standard response. "All good things, I hope."

"Oh, of course. Abyss Break. I wish I had been there to see it with my own eyes."

So, she was a mage, then. He could sense a faint level of magic power from her, though it was difficult to properly assess that sort of thing without appearing rude. Intently studying someone's magical presence – when you didn't have Wendy's talents – was really no different to staring, and any competent mage would know immediately if someone was trying to examine their magic in great depth. As always, he reserved his judgement on the magical ability of those he met until he had either seen them in action or consulted Wendy on the matter. Magic could be just as deceiving as physical appearances.

"I have a proposal for you, Siegrain," Melchior was saying. "Very soon, you're going to officially take the position of Wizard Saint – and as the only mage of such rank who also works for the Council full-time, that is a role with a lot of responsibility. Every action you take from now on will have repercussions, both for the Council and for yourself."

"I'm aware," came his nonchalant response, waiting for the other to get to the point.

"Ultear is my secretary. Though she hasn't been with the Council for long, she is a capable and promising young woman – exactly the kind of assistant you will need over the coming months. As a token of my appreciation for all the hard work you've been putting in for the Council recently, I have proposed that Ultear transfers over to work for you."

"For me?" Siegrain blinked. "I have no need of an assistant."

"Not on the battlefield, no. You have already proven yourself more than capable of handling anything the dark guilds can throw at you. But in terms of the administration and the paperwork that will inevitably accompany your increased responsibilities going forwards, having someone around who knows the ropes will be invaluable, especially if in taking care of that mundane side of things for you, you can be free to spend more time tracking down the remaining R-Systems."

He was starting to see it now. This was far from an altruistic gesture on Melchior's part – he wasn't entirely sure if the councillor was capable of such an expression. Clearly Melchior was all too aware of the dangers of Siegrain's growing influence. By sending a former employee of his – who would presumably be loyal to him – to get close to Siegrain and report back every move that he made, he could try and maintain some leverage over the man he still hoped he could use.

The fact that the councillor would make such an obvious move revealed his feelings of insecurity. Siegrain becoming a Wizard Saint had thrown a spanner into the works of his plan. As an agent, in order to officially complete the R-System mission, Siegrain had needed the backing of a councillor to justify his involvement. As a Wizard Saint, with all the authority that the title bestowed, the mission would officially become his, and any credit gained from it would belong to him and him alone. He no longer needed the patronage of the councillor to progress, and that was clearly bothering Melchior. Refusing his offer would leave the councillor in a difficult position. While Siegrain didn't particularly have anything against him, he would not become a pawn either.

On the other hand, accepting the offer might not necessarily be a bad idea. He couldn't deny that having an assistant would be useful, and furthermore, if he could turn her to his side, she would be a valuable double agent to use against Melchior when the time came. It all came down to whether or not he thought he could beat the councillor at his own game.

Aware that the two of them were waiting for a response, Siegrain turned slowly, deliberately, to Ultear. "And how do you feel about this move, Ultear?" He sensed the councillor's discomfort, and it only added a lightness to his tone. "Going from being a councillor's secretary to working for someone like me – that's quite a demotion."

She gave a firm shake of her head. "Not at all. Working for the youngest ever Wizard Saint would be an absolute honour."

He had been expecting that – it was the only answer she could have given in front of her boss – but what was surprising was how she seemed to be earnest about it. He wondered if she had been the one to propose this move to Melchior, and if so, why on earth would she do something like that?

Curious, he looked at her and she looked back at him, and in that moment, he sensed something. Perhaps it was a momentary disturbance in her magical presence; perhaps it was a gleam in her eyes, so brief he might have imagined it. But, imagined or otherwise, he couldn't shake the sudden unsettling feeling that had risen up inside him, and whether it was in a political dance or a life-or-death magical battle, he had learnt a long time ago to trust his instincts.

So he found himself turning back to Melchior with a smile that was intentionally arrogant. "Well, I appreciate the offer, Councillor, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. I prefer to do all my work myself – whether it's finding and destroying the R-Systems, or writing reports on them and presenting plans of action to the Council." Ignoring the dark look that clouded the councillor's face, he nodded towards Ultear. "Don't take this personally. I believe you're more than capable of doing the job; you'd only be wasted on someone like me. I'm sure I'll see you round."

And with that he departed, leaving the room in a stunned silence behind him.

It was only after quite some time had passed that the councillor offered his secretary something of an apologetic shrug. "Don't worry. I'm sure he'll come round."

Ultear was still staring at the closed door. She might have been impressed, but if so, it was a completely different expression to the naïve awe she had displayed earlier. A sly smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, I'm sure he will."

* * *

Only after he had returned to the quiet security of his flat, able to mull over the events of the day in peaceful, safe isolation, did Siegrain realize exactly what it was that had bothered him about Ultear.

He was sat in the bay window with a mug of tea in his hand at the time, kept company by a little carved figurine of a snail. And as he watched the ordinary people in the street below going about their ordinary lives, it occurred to him that that look which had entered her eyes right at the end was not one he had ever seen in the eyes of an ordinary person. It was the look of someone who had seen hell, like he had.

 _She's just like me._

And that was exactly what was bothering him. She reminded him of himself – well, of how he had been back when he started working for the Council, almost a year and a half ago. It wasn't just that she was putting on an act in order to win the councillor's affections or work her way into his favour. No, everything about her persona was fictitious. From her shyness to her perfectly calculated naivety to her innocent, eager desire to please, none of it was real. Wendy's unabashed admiration of him was genuine. Ultear's was not. He was willing to gamble that even her magical presence had been completely controlled; that she was showing enough of it for him to identify her as a mage, but not so much that he would be able to see her true power. Something like that took an awful lot of skill. He resolved to get Wendy to take a look – if she really was a powerful mage, it would be an almost certain confirmation of his hypothesis.

He wasn't sure what bothered him more: that there was someone else like that amongst the Council, or that it had taken him so long to realize what she was. What was her game? Why was a mage of her probable abilities posing as a secretary? Was it simply a long-winded way of deceiving her political rivals in order to gain power in the Magic Council, or did she have a darker purpose; something along the lines of the game that he was playing? The thought chilled him to the core.

Whatever her intentions, he considered himself fortunate that he had turned down Melchior's request. His instinct had got him out of a lot of trouble. The last thing he wanted right now was to be involved with someone like that. In an ideal world, they would never meet again, but given their respective lines of work, he thought that would be unlikely – especially when Melchior had his own reasons for bringing them together. The best he could do was to be very, _very_ careful around her until he knew exactly what she was after.

* * *

It was about halfway through the Ceremony for the Advancement of Wizard Saints that Wendy found herself agreeing with Siegrain's prediction for the day: ceremonies were a waste of time.

She had been so excited when Siegrain gave her the invitation, and had spent the next two months enthusiastically crossing the days off on Roubaul's calendar. When the time had come, she and Carla had put on their nicest dresses and travelled to Era to witness the once-in-a-lifetime event of seeing her best friend officially becoming a Wizard Saint. The ceremony itself took place in an enormous cathedral in the heart of the city – she had no memory whatsoever of the first ten minutes of the ceremony because she had been too busy staring at the stained glass windows, the towering statues, the intricate carved pillars and the incredible artwork painted directly onto the ceiling to pay any attention to what was going on.

There were other good bits about the ceremony too. The singing of the chorus was beautiful, though it was starting to wear off a bit after the fourth song, especially since Wendy couldn't join in because she didn't know any of the words. Siegrain looked pretty amazing too. As was customary at such events, he was hardly restraining his magical presence at all. There was so much power around him that she could almost see it with her eyes, let alone her other senses, and it rose up around his body in shining silver spirals.

But apart from that, she was certain that the ceremony didn't need quite so many speeches, or performances, or lectures on the history of the Council or the duties of the Wizard Saints. Once, Siegrain met her gaze across the rows of people and rolled his eyes, causing her to grin; she wasn't the only one bored out of her mind by the formalities. However, that gesture earned him a cross look from half the assembled Council members, and after that he didn't dare to let his concentration wander again. Even Carla had curled up and gone to sleep on Wendy's lap – though she could hardly be blamed for feeling worn out, given how it still wasn't easy for her to be part of such a large crowd. Only Lahar, standing to attention with the other Rune Knight Captains, seemed to be completely immune to the boredom, and he watched the entire affair with rapt attention.

As he had no official role in state affairs like this one, Matthias had been given the job of supervising the two girls, and he was sat with them amongst the crowd. Fortunately, once Wendy had worked out that he was as bored as she was, she had challenged him to an epic match of rock-paper-scissors, to end only when the ceremony was over. So they had undertaken this intense silent battle, much to the annoyance of those around them – who would have happily told the child to sit still and behave herself, but wouldn't dare do the same to the armed assassin. Their competition had finally resolved itself at the end of the ceremony with Wendy's victory, one hundred and thirty-two wins to Matthias's one hundred and thirty.

With the official part of the ceremony over, Siegrain finally caught up with the three of them at the buffet. Wendy was holding a champagne flute in her hand, though instead of the expensive alcohol on tap at the celebration, it appeared to be filled with a kind of sugary sludge. Part semi-melted ice cream, part chocolate syrup, part strawberry sauce, and a whole host of other ingredients he couldn't even begin to guess at – even for the sweet tooth of a child, it looked a little extreme. As he watched, she took a slice of cake from the buffet and used a spoon to scrape the jam and cream filling into the mixture, and then, as an afterthought, added the icing too, before putting a small plate over the top of the glass to act as a lid and giving the whole thing a vigorous shake.

"Wendy, what on earth are you doing?" he asked, utterly bemused by her actions.

As usual, her face lit up when she saw him. "I'm making a drink for Matthias!" she declared happily, as if that explained everything.

Siegrain glanced at Matthias, who gave him a look of bleak resignation in return. Carla was sat on the buffet table next to them with a canapé in each hand, trying to act like this was all beneath her, but she was clearly taking careful note of Wendy's actions with a gleam in her eyes. "Umm…?" he wondered aloud.

"Basically," Wendy explained brightly, "We had a rock-paper-scissors tournament and as a prize we decided that the winner could make the loser do whatever they wanted."

"Ooh, rookie mistake," Siegrain remarked to Matthias with a grin.

"Tell me about it…" the other groaned.

"So I decided I would make him a special potion to drink!"

"In other words, she's decided to take this opportunity to poison me." Matthias placed his hands on Siegrain's shoulders. "Are you absolutely sure she's not a spy from a foreign nation?"

"Quite sure. She's just an ordinary girl… with a surprisingly sadistic sense of humour." Siegrain gave Wendy an approving nod. "Are those jalapeño peppers I can see in the bottom of the glass there, Wendy?"

She placed her finger to her lips and shushed him loudly. "They're supposed to be a secret!"

"Ah, my bad."

Matthias gave a groan. "I think I should be able to veto this dare on the grounds that it's probably going to kill me."

"Well then, you shouldn't have lost the game of rock-paper-scissors, should you?" Siegrain retorted with a grin, ignoring the death-glare he received in return.

Having finished crafting her concoction, Wendy passed the glass of sugary sludge to Matthias. "Here you go! I recommend drinking it in one go."

He looked around in the hope that someone would offer him a way out, but to no avail. "Well, it was nice knowing you all," he said gloomily, before raising the glass in a toast, closing his eyes, pinching his nose, and draining the liquid in one go. For a moment he seemed to be frozen in that position, but then he replaced the glass on the table and opened his eyes. "Hey, that wasn't too-" And then his premature remark was abruptly cut short as his face turned a strange shade of purple and he clapped a hand to his mouth, sprinting off in the direction of the bathrooms.

Left alone, Siegrain, Wendy and Carla were doing their best not to laugh and failing miserably. "You know what?" Wendy asked sagely. "I think ceremonies are fun after all."

"I think you might be right. And speaking of which, Wendy, if you're done with trying to poison people, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Okay." Intrigued, Wendy left the buffet behind and followed Siegrain through the crowd, while Carla floated at her shoulder. It took longer than it should have done to navigate through the grand hall, since complete strangers kept stopping to congratulate the newly appointed Wizard Saint, much to his annoyance, and by the time they reached their destination, they were all significantly calmer.

Over in one corner of the room, a young woman was conversing with a far older man in a suit, but when Siegrain approached, the gentleman gave a respectful nod and moved away, allowing them some privacy to talk in. As the mutual associate, Siegrain introduced them. "Wendy, Carla, this is Ultear. Ultear, meet Wendy and Carla. They're the friends I was telling you about."

"Nice to meet you," said Ultear, shaking Wendy's hand and Carla's paw politely. For the sake of the ceremony, she had abandoned the office clothes which didn't suit her in exchange for a long white robe-like dress, tied loosely at the waist with a belt. Runic patterns emblazoned the hem and the wide sleeves. A length of similar material kept her fringe out of her eyes; behind her, her long hair was free to sway as she walked.

Wendy looked from her to Siegrain, then back to her, and then back to her friend. He didn't like the sudden dawning realization in her eyes. In a knowing voice that filled him with dread, she suddenly announced, "Oh, I see."

He almost didn't want to ask. "See… what, exactly?"

"You're in love with her!"

There was a moment of silence. Then Ultear gave a spluttering laugh as Siegrain began desperately waving his hands in horror. "Where the hell are you getting an idea like that from?" he demanded.

"Well," came her matter-of-fact response, "There was the way that you wanted me to meet her, and she is very pretty…"

Siegrain gave a sigh, touching a hand to his temple in exasperation. "No, Wendy, we're just colleagues. That's all. And if you're going to make that comment about every one of my female co-workers, then this is the last time I'll ever be inviting you to come and visit me at work."

"…Oh." She looked disappointed. "Sorry. That was my mistake…" But, being a curious child, she wasn't about to just drop the subject – not when it could get such a fun and dramatic reaction out of her serious friend. "Is there someone else you're in love with, then?" she asked, light and curious and not at all bothered by the glare he shot her in return.

He was about to end the conversation then and there with a sharp refutation when he found himself hesitating. "Well… I guess there was, once. But it turned out that she and I wanted different things in life, so we had to part ways. I haven't seen her in a long time."

Wendy pulled a face. "Well, she's missing out, then, isn't she?"

He stared at her, astonished. The silence was only broken when Ultear laughed. It was a genuine gesture; there was true mirth in her eyes as she watched the exchange between the two of them. Not even Siegrain's annoyed look could stop her, though she did raise a hand to her mouth in a modest gesture to try and suppress her fit of giggles.

"You shouldn't do that," Wendy said suddenly, staring at her. As the others looked at her, puzzled, she explained with a brightness in her eyes, "You have a really beautiful smile. There's no need to hide it. I think it would make people happy to see it."

Now it was Ultear's turn to stare at Wendy in surprise. Then she turned to Siegrain, remarking, "She's a sweet girl. I can see why you keep her around now."

"I'm not sure _I_ can," Siegrain muttered to himself. "I've had quite enough of this conversation…"

"Ah, you'll have to excuse me. Councillor Melchior is calling for me. It was nice to meet you, girls," Ultear said, and with that, she disappeared back into the crowd.

When she was gone, Siegrain crouched down beside Wendy. At first she thought he was going to tell her off for making fun of him in front of his colleague from the Council, but instead, he just shuffled closer to her and whispered, "Just between you and me, Wendy, Ultear is a really powerful mage, right?"

"Oh, yes," the girl replied without hesitation. "Really, _really_ powerful."

"I thought as much," he said, and frowned. "What does her magic look like to you?"

"Hmm. Kind of like yours, really."

"Like mine?" he echoed.

"Two types," Wendy told him matter-of-factly, counting them off on her fingers. "One that's big and bright and obvious, and another that she keeps locked away, that I can only see if I'm _really_ looking for it. Like you. But reversed."

"Reversed?"

"Her main one is the one that doesn't really belong to her. Her secret one is the one she was born with. See?" When he nodded, she continued, "She doesn't like the big one because it's not powerful enough. I don't quite understand that because it seems _really_ powerful to me, but it's like she's always expecting it to be able to do more, and hates that it can't. And the one she keeps sealed… she doesn't like that one either, because it's _too_ powerful. Or maybe it's just that she's really good with it, and she hates that." She blinked up at him, genuinely curious. "How can anyone hate their magic? It's like hating yourself. How does that even work?"

"Beats me," Siegrain shrugged. He wasn't really listening anyway, trying instead to work out if there was anything in Wendy's cryptic descriptions of Ultear's magic that could be useful to him.

"If it helps, she's powerful, but I don't think she would win against you. Not when there's conflict between her and her own magic." More to herself than to him, she mused, "I don't think I've ever seen that in a person before…"

"I don't like her," Carla interjected, folding her arms.

"You say that about everyone, though," Wendy pointed out helpfully. "And then people usually turn out to be okay when you get to know them. Like Siegrain, and Lahar, and Matthias… they're your friends, right?"

Carla glanced away, embarrassed. "Well, I guess so."

"I neither like nor dislike her," Siegrain interjected thoughtfully; quietly. "But I don't trust her. Even though she officially works in the Treasury, Melchior has been arranging it so she's been put on the same jobs as me these past two months, and I don't really know what to make of her. I wanted to ask you just in case-"

His shady whisper was cut off by a sudden loud voice. "What's going on over here? Are the children perhaps conspiring to think up another petty prank?"

Siegrain and Wendy looked up into the face of a very cross Knight Captain. Lahar's arms were folded over his breastplate; he glared down at them with icy eyes through his steel-rimmed glasses. Wendy whispered unnecessarily to her friends, "I think we might be in trouble…"

Rising smoothly to his feet, Siegrain sketched a teasing bow. "And how can a humble Wizard Saint be of assistance to you, Sir Knight Captain?"

Lahar tactfully ignored this, though the angry creases in his brow seemed to deepen. "What the hell did you do to my brother?"

"Ah. That." Siegrain took a swift step away from Wendy, pointing an accusing finger at the girl. "It was all Wendy's doing, Your Honour."

The Knight's glare did not budge an inch. "I expected better of you, Siegrain. You should have known better than to let her do something like that. Ceremony or no ceremony, putting one of the Council's top agents out of action for an entire day like that is no laughing matter. I suppose it was too much to hope that you might actually have become a little more responsible given your new position."

"To be fair," Wendy spoke up, "If there's one day where Siegrain should be allowed to pull pranks on people, surely it's today. He's celebrating, after all."

"Wendy, you're not actually helping my case here," Siegrain frowned.

"…And it also had nothing to do with him. It was all my fault. Really."

"Plus, it was hilarious."

"Now who's not being helpful?"

The two of them looked at each other and laughed, reliving the memory all over again. Watching them grin at each other like that, Lahar found himself fighting to keep a smile from his own lips. Perhaps it wasn't so bad to let them have a bit of fun, once in a while. The two of them had earnt it, after all. And wasn't that why Matthias had gone along with the stupid dare in the first place?

"Alright, alright," he sighed. "Just next time you're going to pull a stunt like that on my poor brother, make sure you do it when I'm around, so I can take part too."

"That's what we like to see," Siegrain remarked, clapping him on the back. "Now come on, let's go and see if there's any free food left. After we had to sit through that boring ceremony earlier, giving us all the cake we can eat is the least the Council can do to make it up to us."

"You're such a child," the Knight muttered, with a reluctant smile.

"A child who's also a Wizard Saint," Siegrain corrected him brightly. "Come on, Wendy, Carla, Lahar! Last one to the buffet has to eat the coconut cake!"

With that, he drew upon his magic, using it to dart through the crowd – much to the surprise and worry of the guests, many of whom believed they were under attack – and he reached the table at the other side of the hall in an instant. As Wendy and Carla scrambled after him, calling for him to wait, Lahar stared after them, aghast. "Why on earth did the Council think it was a good idea to give such an important position to that man?"

And yet, for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, the Knight couldn't keep a smile off his face. "It's so good to see him relaxed for a change," he admitted. "And things seem so much brighter when he and Wendy are around."

And then: "Ah, well. It's a good job I like coconut cake," he remarked, to no one in particular, and set off after the others.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** So, Ultear. I will admit I backed myself into a bit of a corner on that one. If not for my spiteful insistence on keeping her out of the story for as long as possible because I don't like her, I could just have had her and Jellal inexplicably being allies from before the start of the story, and now she could just swan in and remind him of how he's supposed to be being evil for the sake of their shared dream/plan/whatever. As it is, with this being (as far as Jellal's aware) the first time that they've actually met, she's in a bit of a difficult position. _

_As briefly argued last chapter, she can't just control him; not even with magic. She's only able to get to him in the first place because of circumstance, really. When they first meet in the Tower, Jellal is scared, alone, physically broken, terrified for Erza's safety, and furious at how his friends are being treated - in other words, completely vulnerable. Now? It's the total opposite. There are so many good things in his life right now that he's subconsciously rejected the fear and the hatred she exploited back then. Besides, the apparition is fairly believable in the spooky atmosphere of the Tower of Heaven. But can you imagine "Zeref's ghost" appearing in Jellal's flat in Era while he's busy completing his expenses claim for his latest Council job? I think Jellal's first reaction would be bemusement, quickly followed by "Well this all seems highly suspicious..." Not only is he an extremely powerful mage, but dealing with dark magic is his area of expertise; it would surely only take a moment of disbelief to let him see the lie and the magic behind it for what it is._

 _Nope, if Ultear wants to get him to go evil again, she's got to do it the hard way, without letting on her involvement in any of it._ _I've made a few changes to the relationship between her and Jellal, and while it might not precisely match what we see of them in canon up to the end of the Tower of Heaven, I think it will better set up what we know will happen post-timeskip, so it's swings and roundabouts I suppose. It's interesting to me because it's been the most challenging bit of the story to tackle so far._

 _Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! It's been far too long since I've been able to write a fun one like this! ~CS_


	18. Encounter at Fantasia

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Encounter at Fantasia-**

 **September, X782**

"Hey, Siegrain! Have you got a moment?"

By now, Siegrain was so used to people calling out to him as he walked through the Council Headquarters that he had acquired the ability to instantly place such shouters into three categories: those who wanted something from him; those who wanted something from him but had a right to do so, like someone from the Council; and those who might genuinely just want to talk to him. In particular, he considered himself an expert in filtering out and pretending he hadn't heard the first category, but there wasn't much he could do about the second, and so whenever he heard a voice that fit into the third instead, it always came as something of a relief.

So he was more than happy to stop and wait as this particular speaker hurried down the corridor to catch up with him. "What's up, Matthias? I thought you were out on a job."

"I just got back half an hour ago," the other answered, as the two of them began walking towards the training ground, by mutual consent. "Say, what are your plans for next weekend?"

"Next weekend? Don't think I have any. Why?" And then his eyes narrowed, and it was somewhat reproachfully that he added, "You're not trying to offload your work onto me again, are you?"

"Hey, it was one time already – and besides, you did a much better job than I would have done on that case. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for someone I can trust to take care of my jobs properly to start working here."

"No, but I can certainly imagine. Anyway, what's going on next weekend?"

"Well, funny thing. I ran into Ultear on the way here and- hey, what are you rolling your eyes for?"

"Seriously, Matthias, when are you going to learn? How many times has she turned you down now?"

The older man gave a sigh, resting his hand on Siegrain's shoulder. "Clearly you still have a lot to learn when it comes to romance, my young friend. Ladies love a persistent man."

"Persistence is one thing," Siegrain retorted, shrugging casually out of the other's grasp with the ease of practice. "Asking her out three times a week is borderline harassment. You're lucky she seems to consider your repeated disastrous attempts at wooing her as a source of entertainment."

"Just you wait; I'll prove you wrong," came the easy-going reply. "Besides, you haven't even heard what I was going to say yet."

"Fine. What were you talking to Ultear about, then?"

"Well, there's this town in the east of Fiore called Magnolia, which is home to a mage guild called Fairy Tail."

"I think I've heard of them. They're the ones your brother is always complaining about, right? The guild that causes destruction wherever it goes?"

Matthias chuckled. "That's them. But, anyway, Magnolia is famous for its harvest festival, which goes on for days and culminates in this big event called the Fantasia Parade, where Fairy Tail puts on an enormous parade through the streets of the town. It's supposed to be an incredible spectacle - people flock from all over the kingdom to see it. Anyway, this parade takes place next weekend, and Ultear mentioned that she's always wanted to see it, but has never had the chance to go, so I thought that maybe…"

"You thought that you'd invite _me_ to the parade because you want to take Ultear there and you know she'll turn you down if it's just the two of you going."

"…Pretty much," admitted Matthias. If it were anyone else, he might have denied it, but Siegrain knew him far too well.

Indeed, the young man gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I'll come, under one condition."

"What's that?"

"That I can bring Wendy. It's the kind of thing that she'd like. She's still not over the fact that I had to cancel this year's beach trip because I was in hospital."

"Oh, I remember that. She was pretty upset about it."

"It was hardly my fault. It's not like I _wanted_ to spend a month in hospital recovering from overexertion of magic," he muttered, somewhat sheepishly.

"Actually, it _was_ your fault. If you were going to collapse those tunnels with Abyss Break you should have done so from the start, rather than using up most of your power taking out all the enemy mages in single combat first. It's a miracle you even survived casting it."

"Oh, shut up. After what happened in the first R-System I have to prioritize finding and destroying the core by hand before it can go out of control, you know that. The beach will still be there next year, after all. Now is the time we should be taking vacations – while we're still in the process of locating the next system. So that's why I want to bring Wendy, okay?"

"Sure. I was going to suggest you invite her and Carla anyway. These things are always more fun in a group."

"And if Ultear still turns you down, at least you won't be there on your own."

Matthias glared at him in mock annoyance. "She won't. The way she brought it up like that – she _wants_ to be asked. Even I wouldn't fail to pick up on that big a hint. See, Siegrain, when a lady-"

"Yeah, yeah. Some of us have work to do, you know."

He managed to get halfway down the corridor before Matthias shouted after him, "You know, Ultear's suggestion wasn't the only reason why I wanted to invite you out somewhere. You've been working hard recently – you and Wendy both. Taking out two R-Systems just since becoming a Wizard Saint… even I'll admit that's impressive. But I'm with Wendy on this one. It's important to take time off too. Sometimes you just need to relax, you know? Come to Fantasia. It'll be fun."

"If you say so." Siegrain shrugged noncommittedly, disappearing round the corner.

Matthias watched him go with a small smile. "Wendy's right," he said to himself. "He really can't look after himself, can he?"

* * *

In the end, there were six of them who went to Magnolia: Siegrain, Wendy, Carla, Matthias, Lahar and Ultear – though no sooner had they arrived than that number went down to five, as they immediately lost Wendy in the great crush of people filling the streets. After a few minutes of frantic searching, in which both Carla and Siegrain took to the air in an attempt to find her, they eventually spotted her in front of a stall which sold candy floss, watching with delight as the shopkeeper spun the sugar. After that, Siegrain refused to let go of her hand, haughtily ignoring the remarks the others made about him finally acting like a responsible big brother.

They arrived in the early afternoon, giving them plenty of time to look around the town before the parade itself started at sundown – though, as Siegrain had been fully expecting by now, their version of sightseeing was more like being dragged at a breakneck pace from one thing to another by a hyperactive ten-year-old. The others, who were not as accustomed to travelling with Wendy as he was, had anticipated that they would have plenty of time to find a good spot to watch the Fantasia Parade from. He was the only one not surprised when they were still fighting their way through the crowds in a vain attempt to reach the front five minutes after it had started – dragging not only Wendy along with them, but all the items she had acquired from the various festival stalls on the way as well.

She held two toffee apples in one hand, and she had tucked a bag of candy floss under her arm; there was a flower garland around her neck, which shed petals freely atop her new knitted cardigan, through a buttonhole of which she had tied the string of a bright red balloon; and, most importantly, she had a whole sack of fresh harvest vegetables which she dragged along behind her, intending to take them back to her village as a present. Unable to get near the front, they ended up sitting Wendy on Matthias's shoulders, with Carla perched on her head – much to the annoyance of the people standing behind them – while Lahar was in charge of supervising the sack of vegetables.

Once they had finally negotiated a good viewing position for the six of them, they could finally settle down to watch the parade. From the outset, Wendy was completely enthralled by the display, and it was easy for Siegrain to see why. Wendy's magic was kind, like she was, and gentle; it strengthened her allies and healed the injuries they had sustained in battle. Yet she was constantly around those for whom magic was a weapon used solely for defeating their enemies. He and the Knights weren't exactly the best role models for her. That broad grin on her face, the wonder in her eyes as she watched the mages using their magic to dazzle and entertain – he thought that this was a good thing for her to see. For the first few minutes of the parade, he was torn between watching the performing mages and watching the way Wendy's face lit up every time her gaze fell upon something new.

And then, to his surprise, he found his own attention being slowly but surely dragged into the display. He was a far more experienced mage than Wendy, there was no doubt about that – and yet it seemed that he was still learning things about his own magic, and his relationship with it. Watching everyone around him using their magic just for the hell of it reminded him of the first time he had flown; of what could be gained by simply letting magic loose for its own sake.

Ever since he had gained this power, when he had been on the verge of death in the heart of the Tower, it had been a way to survive. With it, he had been able to live on that day when he should have died. He had killed those who had thought to kill him, overthrown the cultists who had enslaved him, and claimed the Tower for himself. From the very start it had been a tool. Working for the Council had only emphasized that fact: if he could defeat dark mages, he would earn the Council's trust; if he understood more about magic than anyone else, he would rise through their ranks towards his goal.

He had never stopped to think about how wonderful it was to just _have_ magic flowing within him – to know that he had the strength to stand on his own; the power to change the world; a reassurance that he never ever had to be alone. Yet for the mages performing in the festival, flashing their magic around not for themselves, but for the awe and delight and entertainment of those around them, that was what all this was about. Their magic was an expression of their emotions – and far from the anger, hatred, and fierce determination to survive that defined the battlefield upon which his magic had been born, their power gave a physical form to sheer joy.

An ice user was showing off his exquisite control over his magic, creating, destroying and reforming elaborate glittering ice statues larger than he was. A fire mage launched fireworks of all colours into the air, pouring sparkling rainbow fire through the night sky like a host of falling stars, or perhaps like wishes given form. The guild's Master, a short old man that he had met for the first time at the Wizard Saint ceremony, was wearing the most ridiculous outfit, complete with a yellow and orange jester's hat, and he seemed to be having the best time of all. He danced, cheered, and laughed along with the spectators, and launched party poppers and magical fireworks from his float, fully aware that he looked like a fool and loving every minute of it. He was the complete opposite of what a Wizard Saint should be, and he couldn't have cared less.

So much time and energy had gone into this festival – and so much passion. It was evident from the incredible architecture that had gone into some of the floats. Papier-mâché castles, fairy lights, paper chains, ribbons, and even a three-metre-tall dragon made of cloth draped over a poseable wooden frame decorated the vehicles. The outfits too were incredible. The dresses and suits – some of which were fancy dress, and some of which wouldn't have looked out of place at a ball at the king's palace – were all handmade, and elaborate and wonderful. The air was full of confetti and glitter and light and song and hope and merriment and revelry, and then there was the magic.

There was so much magic in this place. Just for a moment, he thought he could catch a glimpse of the world as Wendy saw it: alive, so alive; bursting with colours and sounds and tastes and textures that came not from her ordinary senses, but from a world of magic that most people could barely perceive. It was overwhelming. He touched a hand to his forehead; giddy, but unable to look away. He could feel his own magic stirring, as empathetic as ever, called to the surface by the strong feelings in this place. Above all, he felt a sudden, ridiculous urge to join in.

Life. Community. Magic. The Fantasia Parade was a celebration of all these things. And, watching the performing mages, and the cheering crowds, and the unbelievable sense of joy that could arise from such an arbitrary event, he thought that they truly were all things worth treasuring.

 _There is so much in this world worth protecting._

He smiled as that thought came to him once again. As Jellal, he could never have experienced anything like this. This was his privilege as Siegrain, for everything he had done so far in the service of the Council. Right there, in that moment, if all that had been simply for the sake of watching this parade with these people at his side, he would have been content.

And at the centre of it all was _her._

He didn't know when he had first consciously realized it was her.

Perhaps it had been the first time he laid eyes on her. No amount of growth or maturity, nor number of years, could ever prevent him from recognizing her. The last time he had seen her they had both been children, but she was an adult now – and so was he, though that had never really occurred to him until that moment. She was fully grown, and stunningly beautiful; the girl whose bravery had captured his heart all those years ago had become a woman of unearthly grace. She wore a dress that had been designed just for her, and the shimmering ethereal fabric emphasized her perfect pale skin; her agility; her elegance; her poise. In each hand she held a jewelled scimitar, and she danced with the blades without a trace of fear. In her grasp, they were not weapons, but objects of beauty, drawn to amaze and to inspire. She was at once a warrior and a princess, a hero for times of peace as well as times of war; and to him she was utterly radiant, the paragon of beauty, of life itself.

Perhaps it had been the first time she used her magic. He couldn't forget the feeling of her magic any more than he could have forgotten its wielder. Just like his own, it had been begotten in that place of desperation. Her newborn magic had been the light that had led her and her friends in their final fight for freedom, just as his had been the darkness that had allowed him to turn the hierarchy of the Tower on its head and take control of the future with his own two hands. As her shining blades danced around her with a life of their own, gleaming like stars in the lamplight, he found himself admiring the ease of her control; that unshakeable trust in her own magic that let her perform such a perilous act without once being in danger. That magic embodied her bravery, and her indomitable spirit, the equal of which he had not seen since that day they parted ways.

Perhaps it had been the moment when a thought crossed his mind for no apparent reason: _she looks happy._ Because she did. He had never before seen her happy – not _truly_ happy. That thing called happiness had not existed in the Tower, where daily life had been long periods of suffering interspersed with briefer periods of slightly less suffering. But now, as she gave her all for this festival, joy sparkled in her eyes. There was an energy to her dance that could only have come from passion – a love for the performance itself, as well as for the people who watched her in awe, and for the sake of the friends and comrades she was participating with. And above all, she was wearing the most radiant smile. The entire parade of lights and magic paled to nothing in comparison to how brightly she shone.

Or perhaps it was when their eyes met above the crowd.

In that moment, he felt a whole surge of emotions flooding through him. Fear; a deep-rooted, instinctive, overpowering, mind-numbing fear, like he had never known before. A fervent, violent passion that might have been hatred. Nostalgia; a longing for the days gone by, when they had not been innocent, but they had not known guilt either, and they had been together. Jealousy, and spite, and possessiveness: the desire to make her his and his alone. The wish to harm others and the wish to protect them – to make her suffer and to give everything he was to her.

All this he felt at once, and then nothing. The waves of emotions crashed against each other, shaking him to the core, and then just as suddenly they vanished, as if the conflicting feelings had simply cancelled each other out. There was no happiness in him, nor sadness, nor fear – there should have been something to tell him how to feel, yet there was simply nothing at all.

His insides had turned to ice. He was frozen in her gaze, and she in his, paralyzed with her sword dance aborted halfway through. His body was numb, he had forgotten how to breathe, and still he felt nothing at all as his mouth moved on its own, forming a silent word in the emptiness, the only thought still in his mind: "Erza…"

She was the one to break the paralysis. With the parade completely forgotten, she bounded down from the float and ran straight towards him. The swords were still in her hands. Was she coming to embrace him, or to kill him? He didn't know. He wasn't sure which he would have preferred. He still felt nothing at all.

In the confusion of his emotions, the cold, detached, logical part of his mind seized control. _Don't have this confrontation here,_ it told him, and that single thought was the only thing he understood. That calculating part of him was processing the situation with alarming efficiency, as if it hadn't noticed the dead nothing that had taken over the rest of his senses. Whatever was about to happen here, it should not take place in front of men from the Council. So he obeyed that thought and ran, and the alarmed shouts of his companions fell on deaf ears.

He forced his way through the crowd, not even registering the angry shouts or the people he pushed aside except by their absence as he finally made it out into the open. The parade was far behind him now, and the crowd much thinner. He didn't know if she was still following him. He didn't dare look back to check, in case seeing her once again brought back that paralyzing tide of emotions. He had to keep running.

But he should have known that he could never get away from her. Not even six years of running had managed that. He dived into a backstreet and there she was, waiting for him. They looked at each other and once again that numbness came over him, overruling all thoughts of flight.

"Jellal…" she whispered, and there were a thousand questions in that one word. She took a step towards him. The blades were still in her hands. That lost look in her eyes mirrored exactly how he felt. He couldn't predict how she would act in that state any more than he could predict how _he_ would act.

If she attacked, could he fight back? His initial thought was that he couldn't possibly call his magic without any emotion at all, but something told him that was wrong. This cold and logical side of him could wield his magic just as well as he could, like a machine of self-preservation. As she took another step forwards, so did he, automatically drawing his magic to him-

There was a sudden blur of motion and then there was a third figure standing in the street. A good moment or two passed in shock before the dispassionate part of his mind prompted him to recognize Matthias. The older man had planted himself firmly between the two of them. His cloak, bearing the authoritative symbol of the Magic Council, fluttered out behind him. His left palm was raised towards Erza; she obeyed the silent request without thinking, stopping in her tracks. His right hand rested against Siegrain's chest, preventing him from moving forward, had he have wanted to. For some reason, that simple contact was reassuring. It made the decision for him. It was with some relief that the magic he had been building up was allowed to drain away.

"What's going on, Siegrain?" Matthias asked, and unbeknownst to him, he almost got a laugh in response. How was he supposed to answer that? How could he describe what he was feeling to another when he didn't even understand it himself? There were no words for it; nothing in the world that he could compare it to.

As if Matthias hadn't noticed his inner turmoil, he continued, with a curious glance at Erza, "Who is this person?"

As himself, he could never have answered that question, but that cold part of his mind jumped to the rescue. He heard himself saying, in a tone of voice that was almost completely normal, "Someone who knows my brother, clearly."

A whole new level of confusion entered Erza's troubled gaze at his words. "Brother…?" she murmured.

In contrast, Matthias nodded in understanding. His posture relaxed slightly. "I see. That makes sense. I didn't know what to think when you just ran off without warning. I thought we were under attack."

"Well," he responded, with a slight shrug – how on earth was he managing to be so calm on the outside? _How?_ "It's hardly the first time I've been attacked out of the blue by one of Jellal's enemies. My first instinct was to take the fight elsewhere before anyone around me could get dragged into it." He didn't know where that slight, confident smile on his own face had come from. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you."

"Ah, don't worry about it. Wendy's in a bit of a state, but she'll calm down when she hears you're alright. Lahar's looking after her."

"Right. Thanks."

Watching the completely natural exchange between the man who obviously worked for the Council and the other she had thought was her enemy had only deepened Erza's puzzlement. "Are you… not him?" she asked tentatively.

"Jellal's my twin brother," came his controlled, slightly sarcastic response. "My name is Siegrain. I work for the Magic Council, in an unending quest to repair the damage my brother has done."

She looked at him searchingly, seeking answers that the calculating part of his mind would not give her. His control was absolute. There was no visible sign of his uncertainty; the turbulent nothingness of his emotions. Whatever she found in his eyes, it was not the truth about how he was feeling.

And to his surprise, she glanced away. "Yeah. Jellal would never come to a place like this. He'd never be working for the Council…" Her gaze slid sideways towards Matthias. "Or have friends looking out for him like that. I'm sorry I thought you were him."

"That's alright," he replied, with a casual shrug, as if it were nothing. "I'm used to it."

They stared at each other in silence, with her shaken and him completely in control. Made uncomfortable by the atmosphere that he couldn't even begin to read, Matthias clapped his hand down on Siegrain's shoulder. "Well, now that that's cleared up, how about we go back to the parade?"

Erza's eyes widened at his words, as if she was only just remembering the event that she had abandoned without a second thought. With a nod towards the Council's agent, and one last, lonely glance at Siegrain, she turned on her heel and left the alleyway. Siegrain doubted she would return to the parade. If she felt at all like he did – and he had seen his own internal discomposure reflected back at him from her eyes – then the last thing she would have wanted right now was to be around other people.

Some distant part of him understood that that too was the reason why he appeared to be saying, "Go on without me. I'll catch you up in a minute."

"Suit yourself," came the response.

It was only when the sound of Matthias's footsteps had vanished into the night that he leaned back against the wall, stared up into the starless sky, and let out a great trembling breath. Now that he was alone, all the emotions that the overwhelming instinct for self-preservation had been holding back hit him at once. There was a buzzing in his ears, drowning out all earthly sounds. He was shaking violently; if not for the cold stone at his back, he would have fallen to the ground.

"This doesn't change anything."

It might have been him who spoke, it might not have been. Either way, that voice was right. It didn't change anything. He had always known that Erza was out there somewhere. He had let her go, after all. The fact that he had absolute confirmation that she was alive and well and part of a mage guild made no difference whatsoever.

Except that it did. Ever since he had started working for the Magic Council, he hadn't thought about Erza once. That side of his life – Erza; being a slave; even, to some extent, being the Master of the Tower – was not part of the role of Siegrain that he had created for himself. For the past two years he had been playing a character who had no connection to the Tower of Heaven, past or present.

And then what? He had become so used to it that he had fooled everyone around him into believing it, even himself. The distinction between himself and the character he had played had vanished. Since the day he had tricked the Council into attacking the Tower, thus clearing him of all suspicion, he had returned there less and less frequently, and only ever to check up on progress. After becoming a Wizard Saint, he hadn't been back once – and yet in that time he had taken out another two hostile R-Systems for the sake of the Council.

He had to do it, in order to gain control of Etherion and activate the Tower – but had that _really_ been why he was doing it? It might have been why he had started upon this path in the first place, but it hadn't been the direct motive behind his actions for a long time. It was no longer his only reason for acting as he did. At some point, quietly, unnoticed even by himself, he had stopped acting out Siegrain's role, and started living it.

It was so pathetic, he wanted to laugh. As if he could just become someone else! He couldn't outrun his past. He couldn't pretend the Tower of Heaven didn't exist. He could never get away from her; from Erza. What he had done to her, and she to him, would never change. He could try to stop thinking about it, to suppress the memories of those days just as he had been doing without even realizing for the past two years, but that wouldn't make them go away. He couldn't just stop being Jellal.

 _This freedom is an illusion._

He knew that. He had known it from the very first time he had heard that voice whisper to him at the top of the Tower of Heaven. True freedom did not exist in this world. Oh, he could run from the Tower; could attempt to hide who he really was; could do his best on a path he believed he had chosen for himself – but it was all a lie. Siegrain wasn't, and would never be, real. He couldn't change who he was. He couldn't change what had happened. He couldn't change what he still had to do. If he ever accidentally strayed from the path that had been given to him, if he ever tried to become someone else, there would always be something to remind him of how futile that was.

Erza.

A living, breathing reminder of the life from which he could never escape.

A reason to destroy this world of lies and torment and the mocking illusion of freedom; a world from which he would never be free until the Tower was complete.

Pain and frustration and grief and hatred. And madness. Such madness, like he had not known for over two years.

Through it all, there was one final, rational thought – his subconscious mind's final attempt to protect him from all the things that would go wrong if he lost control of himself now. _I need to get away from here._

Where didn't matter, as long as he was alone, but there was only one place to which he was ever going to flee. With his magic blazing around him, he launched himself into the air. It didn't matter if anyone was watching – no one in the world could keep up with him right now, as he pushed his magic to the limit in his desperation, ignoring the strain on his body. Seconds later, Magnolia was far behind him.

And the next thing he knew he was crashing through the window of the room at the very top of the Tower of Heaven. There were two people already there; he did not notice them. They took one look at their Master and ran for their lives, leaving him alone in that place of darkness.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt safe. Here, he was secure. Here, he could be himself, without having to worry about who was watching or how it would influence his relationship with the Council. And who he was right now was a creature of insanity, unable to escape from the incomprehensible feeling inside him.

Pain was something he understood. It was familiar; comforting; he would rather feel pain than something he had no name for. He would drown these feelings in his own suffering until the way before him became clear.

He screamed and screamed in wordless rage until his throat was raw and blood dripped from his lips, and it still wasn't enough. He threw himself at the walls of the Tower over and over again, laughing at the sound of snapping bones. As the walls cracked and broke under the onslaught, revealing the jagged crystal underneath, bruising became cutting and he delighted in the spraying blood. Set free by his madness, his magic raged rampant through the room, tearing apart everything it could reach: the ceiling, the walls, even he himself. Not even the threat of destroying the building he had devoted his life to constructing could bring him to his senses.

It was only when he finally lost consciousness, lying alone in that room in a pool of his own blood, that the tremors came to an end, and a deathly silence descended upon the Tower of Heaven.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** DAMMIT ULTEAR YOU KNEW THAT WOULD HAPPEN YOU FIEND ~CS_


	19. The Battle Fought without Fists or Magic

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-The Battle Fought without Fists or Magic-**

 **March, X783**

"Wendy, are you _sure_ this is a good idea?"

"Stop worrying, Carla. I do this all the time!"

" _All_ the time?"

"Well, okay, I've done it twice. But I know exactly what I'm doing. Trust me."

Under normal circumstances, Carla would have had no problem with trusting her closest friend. Today's situation, however, was a rather unusual one. The two of them were crouched in the shadows behind of one of the outbuildings attached to the Council Headquarters, peering round the corner at a certain service entrance set into the side of the main building. Unlike the other doors they had tried so far, this one had been fortuitously left ajar – and that meant it offered them a way in.

Carla glanced nervously over her shoulder to the vast gardens round the back of the building complex. The array of pristine lawns and flowerbeds would have been open to the public during the main tourist season – the summer months – but it was still so cold that only the hardiest of the spring flowers had dared to emerge from the earth, and the only people allowed in the gardens were those who worked in the building itself. Rune Knights frequently patrolled its perimeter, keeping a careful eye out for intruders.

Though the guards clearly weren't careful enough, because the girl and the cat had managed to sneak through most of the gardens without being spotted. By being more observant than the Knights they were trying to evade – for whom the duty was merely a formality, as no one expected that the Council would be attacked directly – they had navigated across several hundred metres of Council territory, darting from hedge to shed to lawn ornament in search of concealment as they approached the main building. Now, only a small paved courtyard stood between them and their goal.

"Wendy, I'm pretty sure that this is trespassing. If we're caught, we could end up in prison."

"It's not trespassing if we're invited," she rebuffed.

"We haven't been invited. That's the whole problem."

Wendy shook her head firmly. "Look at it this way. Siegrain would definitely want to invite us in. But he can't do that at the moment, since he doesn't know we're here. So it's like a future invite. All we've got to do is evade the Knights until we find Siegrain or someone we know who will officially let us be in the building, and then it's fine, see?"

A flicker of sadness entered Carla's eyes at her words, but Wendy had already turned her attention back to the courtyard. The winter had been hard on Wendy, and what was hard on Wendy was also hard on her, since the girl's problems were her own. They hadn't seen Siegrain once since the day of the Fantasia Parade. No one had been more worried than Wendy when he hadn't returned to them, and despite Matthias's reassurances that Siegrain wasn't in any danger and could look after himself even if he was, she knew they were all concerned about his whereabouts.

Eventually, she had been forced to go back to her guild alone. Not knowing what had happened to him had left her in a state of constant worry, despite her best attempts to be cheerful throughout Cait Shelter's year-end celebrations. At around that time, on a shopping trip to a nearby town, she and Carla had seen a newspaper headline reporting the destruction of another R-System by the Council's own Wizard Saint, which had slightly lessened her fears. At least he was alive, and still carrying out his mission for the Council.

But not once had he dropped by the guild to visit them since that day.

Wendy had had no shortage of explanations for his behaviour. "Maybe he ran into some enemies during the Fantasia Parade and doesn't want to lead them to us in case it's too dangerous." "Maybe the trains aren't running at the moment. We have had a lot of snow this winter." "He's probably just really busy at the moment. He is a Wizard Saint with a proper job, after all. I'm sure he'll come by when he has time."

The new year had come and gone, and there was still no sign of him. January became February, which melted into March, and as the snows cleared and life began to return to the forest where they lived, Wendy's excuses on behalf of her friend finally dried up. But, in typical Wendy fashion, rather than just accepting the fact that this was how things were now, she had cheerfully declared that if he wasn't going to visit them, they were just going to have to visit him. Carla and Master Roubaul had both tried to talk her out of it, though only half-heartedly, because they both cared a lot more about Wendy's happiness than the semi-legality of breaking into the Council Headquarters.

Then again, the decision to accompany her friend had been an easy one for Carla to make when she was safely back within Cait Shelter. Now that they were actually out there in the field, where one wrong move could feasibly land them both in prison, she was beginning to have second thoughts.

"Should we run for it?" she suggested doubtfully. "The courtyard looks clear…"

"Give it another minute," came Wendy's response. The concentration was evident in her voice. Siegrain might not have been there to take charge of the adventuring party, but Wendy was proving more than capable of making the command decisions herself.

And sure enough, only a few seconds later a group of three Knights entered the courtyard. Wendy and Carla pressed themselves deeper into the shadows round the side of the building, listening for the distinctive sound of iron-shod boots on cobblestones to disappear into the distance. After a brief check revealed that the coast was clear, Wendy darted out from her hiding place and ran across the courtyard, Carla hot on her heels. They pulled open the service door and slipped inside, where they waited with bated breath for an alarm bell or a warning shout or any other indication that they had been spotted. Only when a minute or two had passed without any such sign materializing did they both let out the breaths they had been holding and grin at each other in relief.

"Wendy," Carla began curiously, "Why exactly is it that you know all the Rune Knights' patrol times?"

"I learnt them!" came the proud response. "You know how sometimes when we're visiting the Council, we run into Lahar, and he ends up stopping and talking to us when he's supposed to be on patrol duty? And then he gets in trouble? Well, I thought that if I learnt the normal patrol routes and all the times that the shifts changed, then I'd be able to work out if he was on patrol or not, and I'd know whether it would be okay to bother him. See?"

"…I think most people in that situation would just ask him if he was busy or not when they ran into him, Wendy."

"He's too nice, though. He'll always pretend he has the time to talk to us, even if he's supposed to be standing guard."

Carla couldn't argue with her simple honesty. "I suppose you have a point there… but Lahar doesn't officially do guard duty now that he's a Captain, so his schedule is completely irregular. How come you still remember all this?"

She thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged. "It seemed like the sort of thing that might come in handy one day."

"Come in handy for _what_ , exactly?"

"This," she said matter-of-factly, as if breaking into the Council Headquarters was a completely normal thing to do. "Besides, when I told Siegrain, he said it was a useful thing to know."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Carla muttered to herself. "Anyway, Wendy, do you know where we're going?"

"Yup! Siegrain's office is… over there," she finished, waving her arm vaguely up and to the right of their current position. "Come on, Carla! Let's go! Like ninjas!"

"Yeah…" Slightly less enthusiastic than her friend, Carla spread her wings and floated along behind Wendy as she ran on silent feet down the corridors. There were no official patrols within the building proper, but that only made the task more difficult. Any Rune Knight or Council employee in the building would be aware that the child and her cat weren't supposed to be there, and it was impossible to predict who would be walking where when. Between a lot of hasty backtracking, spur-of-the-moment bluffing, and diving into closets to hide at the last minute – in other words, employing all the skills she had picked up from Siegrain on their many missions together in a manner he would certainly have been proud of – the two of them managed to make it to the right corridor.

When the Wizard Saint wasn't out on Council missions or training in the Rune Knights' facility or studying forbidden artefacts in the Council Archives, he could most often be found in his office here, carrying out the more mundane side of his work: writing up the formal reports of his missions; working his way through the paperwork required to authorize the Knights' raids; and interpreting the documents he had found during previous R-System raids and using them to pinpoint the location of the next one. For Council agents, the department they were assigned to was supposed to take care of this side of things, but since he had become a Wizard Saint, he had chosen to take on more of the responsibility himself – so that no one could deny he was an influential figure both on and off the battlefield. And if the downside of that was that he was too busy to go on missions with Wendy any more, well, that just meant she had to take matters into her own hands.

Unfortunately, before they could go about trying to find which door led to his office, a figure appeared at the far end of the corridor. She had already seen the intruders; there was no time for them to hide. As Wendy was sizing up her options – to run, or to try and explain the situation, since she was so close to her goal – the newcomer called out to her.

"It's Wendy, isn't it?"

"Oh!" Wendy's eyes widened in recognition. "Miss Ultear! Good morning!"

Far from being the friendly figure Wendy had been hoping for, however, the young woman simply frowned at her as she approached. "What are you doing here? How did you get inside the building?"

Wendy focussed on the first question, tactfully avoiding having to answer the second. "We're here to see Siegrain! Can you show me where he is?"

Lahar or Matthias or even Councillor Melchior would have agreed, Wendy was certain. To her dismay, however, Ultear slowly shook her head. "Siegrain is very busy at the moment. I'm afraid he doesn't have time to see you."

Wendy blinked at her, not understanding. "But… we came all the way here…"

"The Council is in the middle of a very important operation, and Siegrain can't be disturbed. He needs to focus on his work, not play around with children. I'm afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave the premises."

"But…" Wendy floundered. "If you just tell him I'm here, he'll definitely want to see me. It's been ages, you see, and I haven't heard from him… I'm sure he'd want to say hello, at least… Can't you just ask him? Please?"

For a moment, the cold glint in Ultear's eyes made her polite smile seem mocking. "Don't you think that if he wanted to see you, he'd have been to visit your guild?"

"I…"

As her voice tailed off in doubt, the young woman seized her victory. "As I said, he's been very busy recently. Now, I'll take you to the main entrance this time, but if I catch you in here again, I will have no choice but to report you to the Knights."

* * *

Wendy and Carla sat on a bench a couple of streets away from the Council Headquarters. The girl gazed wistfully up at the building, towering over the surrounding houses from its seat on the crest of the hill. They were right back to square one.

"I never liked that woman," Carla scowled, as she paced back and forth along the bench. "I said it from the start."

"Well…" Wendy tried, incapable as usual of expressing dislike for another human being. "She's probably right. I mean, Siegrain might be busy, and I don't want to get in the way of his work, so…"

Carla took one look at her, sighed, and folded her arms. "I refuse to just accept defeat. We're not going to lose to a woman like her, right, Wendy?"

"…Yeah." A faint smile crossed Wendy's face, and then she jumped to her feet, her energy returning once more with her friend's support. "You're right. We're not giving up just yet. Time for Plan B."

* * *

"Not worth investigating… no, not that one… no… This one can go to the guilds…"

Siegrain leafed through the pile of papers in front of him with a resigned expression on his face, speaking quietly to himself as he did so. Each document detailed an instance of abnormal magic that had been reported to the Rune Knights in a particular city. Acting on the hunch that there was an R-System located in or nearby the city, he had requested the reports in order to try and narrow down its location, but he should have known better than to rely on the testimony of ordinary citizens. Most of these so-called suspicious instances didn't involve magic at all – many hadn't even been reported by mages, but by people who wouldn't know what magic was if it hit them in the face. A handful of the cases were interesting, and probably ought to be investigated in their own right, but he had yet to find anything that might provide a promising lead on the R-System.

"A haunted warehouse, huh? Disembodied voices… Eyewitness accounts of ghosts…" He grinned to himself as he scanned through the earnest and yet utterly idiotic testimonies submitted by the citizens. "Maybe I'll get the Knights to follow that one up for a laugh. If I recall, Captain Narkis is _very_ superstitious… supervising that wild goose chase would probably keep me entertained for a while. Oh, hello."

Putting the file on the haunted warehouse aside, he picked up another loose sheet that had attracted his attention. "Increased bandit activity around a minor trade route… well, it's unlikely to be relevant to my search, but I really ought to send that one to the guilds to deal with." He placed it atop a small pile over to the side of his cluttered desk, but hesitated with his fingertips still resting on the page. "No, on second thoughts, I'll take that job myself. If I don't get out of this room and back into the field soon, I'm going to go crazy-"

Even when he was working, his battle instincts never completely switched off; where another person might have missed the faint tapping over the sound of his own mumbling, he had pinpointed the source of the noise after just one knock. Someone was tapping at his window - despite the fact that this room was on the third floor. Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see some sort of rogue blackbird – and blinked in surprise at the sight of a white winged cat hovering outside.

He stared blankly at Carla and she glared back, gesturing impatiently for him to open the window and let her in. Something told him that would be a very bad idea, but equally, Carla wasn't exactly the kind of person you wanted to leave hanging. She looked cross enough as it was. With a sigh, he got up from his desk, drew back the bolt, and pushed the window open, allowing her to fly in and perch on the windowsill.

"About time," she reprimanded him, as her wings vanished.

More bemused than anything else, it didn't even occur to Siegrain to respond to that. Instead, he went with, "Carla, what on earth are you doing here?"

"Well, funny story," the cat began. "So Wendy's been mopey all winter because you haven't visited her since Fantasia, so we came here to try and see you. Only, Ultear caught us sneaking into the Council building and said that you were too busy to see us, so she made us leave. Wendy was really upset, of course, but she didn't want to bother you if you were busy, so we were walking back to the station to go home when she suddenly began to sense this really creepy magic coming from within the shopping district. You know what she's like – if she thinks something might pose a danger to other people, she just can't leave it alone. So she sent me to come and tell you about it, since you're the best person she knows who can deal with that sort of thing."

"Hmm." He drummed his fingertips against the desk. Even if it was technically still part of his job to deal with things like that, the proper protocol would be to have Carla report it to the Rune Knights, who would only pass it on to him if it proved to be something too dangerous or too complicated for them to handle. Then again, knowing Wendy, if she really thought the dark magic she had sensed was dangerous and he refused to go, there was every chance that she'd try and deal with it herself, and then she'd end up putting herself in danger. He wouldn't hesitate to admit that he didn't want that to happen, especially not when she was only here because she had wanted to see him.

He should have gone to visit her after Fantasia. He knew that. It just... well, it hadn't been quite as simple as returning to the Council.

Of course he had gone back to the Council after that day. When he had come to, alone in the room at the top of the Tower and somehow still alive, he had been completely calm, and able to remember the events of the past two years with near-perfect clarity. Regardless of who he might have been, he still needed Etherion, and that meant he had to carry on playing Siegrain's role for a little while longer.

Everyone wanted to know why he hadn't returned to them after disappearing at Fantasia, but compared to the deception he was already pulling off around the Council, that was nothing. He told them he had gone to speak with Erza's guild after the parade – to ensure she wouldn't get into trouble for abandoning the performance and attacking a member of the public out of the blue; to try and discover the relationship that existed between her and his brother. By all accounts, Erza and Jellal had quite a history. His injuries, so he claimed, had come from her guild before he had been able to explain himself; a product of the same misunderstanding that only Matthias's arrival during his encounter with Erza had prevented. That was the only reason why it had taken him so many days to return to the Council.

They all bought it. No, it was more than that – they hadn't doubted him for a second. Not one of them could tell that there was something different about him; that he had reached an understanding that should have fundamentally changed him; that the person he presented to them was utterly, deliberately fictitious.

He realized then what had not occurred to him in the grip of his madness: that Erza too had accepted the lie. The one person in the world who could have seen him for who he really was had chosen not to look. Even if he did not believe Siegrain was real, she did. Such a person _could_ exist.

But if that were the case, then who was he?

And he had almost lost control and broken down again then and there. He _knew_ he was Jellal, merely playing at being the entirely fake Siegrain, but it was inexplicably difficult to state that with any conviction when he was surrounded by those who accepted his fictitious persona as the absolute truth of his being. That madness, that dissociative terror of not knowing who he was – they were things that scared him far more than any opponent he had faced on the field of battle; a fear that he had not known since he had stared into the heart of darkness at the top of the Tower of Heaven.

So he had started keeping his distance from those who thought they knew him – Wendy especially. He needed it. It helped him stay focussed; stay sane. He had thrown himself into his task to destroy the other R-Systems, working his way towards that implicit promise of a seat on the Council while also being able to keep the focus of the search well away from the Tower of Heaven. That compromise had placated his tumultuous emotions, allowing him not to think about Erza or Wendy or anything beyond the immediate future. The R-System mission was progress, and progress let him feel in control, without having to think about what exactly it was that he was progressing towards.

Seeing Carla again – knowing that Wendy was here – made him feel neither happy nor sad; not relieved nor angry. It was a distraction that he didn't need right now. Even worse, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that seeing her might upset this delicate equilibrium he had built for himself over the past few months. If he saw her, would he have to confront those questions of identity that he had been hiding from ever since his encounter with Erza?

But even as the threat of losing control again sent a stab of fear into him, he also felt something unexpected: guilt. He _had_ run away from Wendy without explanation, and not only had he not been back to see her since that day, but he hadn't even got in touch to let her know he was alright. She had probably been worrying about him for months. Didn't he at least have a duty to speak to her in person?

Besides, why was he scared about seeing her? Erza was a reminder of everything hateful in this world; his living, breathing nightmare. Wendy wasn't like that at all. Lahar had been right; Wendy was like family to him. Had he _ever_ not felt safe around her? He had no guarantee that being around Wendy would make things better, but was there really any logical reason why it would make things worse?

And before he knew it, he wanted to see her again.

"Well?" Carla was demanding, rightfully cross at his long silence.

"Alright, alright, I'll come and check it out." He took a step in the direction of the door and then froze. "No, better not go that way. She's probably watching. We'll go out the window." Paying no attention to Carla's questioning glance, he pushed the window open as wide as it would go and jumped up so that he was crouched on the windowsill.

"Lead on, Carla," he instructed cheerfully, and as the cat gave up with a sigh and flew past his head and out through the gap, he drew his magic to him and launched himself in the direction of the town.

* * *

Ultear rapped smartly on the office door. "Siegrain?" she called. "I've brought the rest of the reports you wanted."

There was silence.

A frown crossed her face. It was very unlike Siegrain to get so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn't hear her knock. He was always far too aware of his surroundings for that. She knocked again, louder, though this time she wasn't surprised to receive no response.

"I'm coming in," she called, before turning the handle and stepping into the room – and immediately letting out a groan. The room was in complete disarray. Someone had left the window open, and the breeze had made short work of the piles of reports that had been stacked all over the room, so that the floor was as much a mess as his desk had been. It would take a day at least to re-order all those papers.

And to make matters worse, Siegrain was nowhere to be seen.

Focussing on the open window once again, Ultear's eyes narrowed. "I knew that girl was going to be a problem."

She had been hoping that their long separation might have caused Wendy to give up on Siegrain, but that girl was more tenacious than she had given her credit for. Of course, she could always try and force Wendy to stay away from him, but she knew better than that. If Siegrain thought Wendy was in danger, he would choose to become a person who could protect her, and then Ultear knew she would lose him forever.

And if something were to happen to that girl... well, the only thing staying Ultear's hand was the fact that she could not say with certainty how Siegrain would react to her death. Right now, he was still unpredictable. While it would certainly end Wendy's influence over him, and might cause him to reject the world in hatred once again, it was just as likely that suffering through that grief, alongside his friends amongst the Council who shared his pain, could prove to be the impetus he needed to abandon the Tower and devote his life to becoming the man Wendy would have wanted him to be. And if he was somehow able to trace Wendy's death back to her, or worse, to her guild...

No, she needed him to put an end to his friendship with that girl of his own free will, and this was not a promising sign, not when she almost had him where she wanted him.

For now, she supposed she had better go and bring him back.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Ultear, there was a pair of eyes glued to her retreating back as she set off in search of her errant colleague. At the other end of the corridor, a certain councillor watched her departure intently. The troubled look on his face was a mere shadow of the pit of dread he felt opening in his stomach, one which was growing deeper and darker with every passing day.

"Do you ever get that feeling that everything has moved ever so slightly beyond your control?"

Melchior jumped at the unexpected sound. Wheeling around, he glared openly at the owner of that voice. "What do you want, Byron?"

"Oh, don't mind me, I was merely thinking out loud," replied the other councillor, though the unpleasant smile on his face suggested otherwise. He clearly wasn't just passing through. He leaned up against the wall, his hands resting atop a silver and ebony cane, and he made no move to leave. "I am curious, though. I thought Siegrain kept turning down your requests to transfer Ultear over to work for him. Did he finally change his mind?"

 _You know the answer to that,_ Melchior thought, grinding his teeth. "No, he did not. Ultear remains my secretary."

"Oh," remarked the other, in an exclamation of utterly fake surprise. "I just assumed she was working for him now, since she appears to be acting as his full-time PA. Clearly I was mistaken."

Not only was Melchior's difficult situation common knowledge amongst the Council, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. No matter how unreasonable a workload he gave Ultear in the hope of keeping her too busy to help Siegrain out, she always managed to clear it all and still find the time to act as that man's assistant. Even worse, every task he gave her was completed to an extraordinarily high standard of competency.

She was the secretary that any councillor would dream of, but that only made it impossible to get rid of her. There were no valid excuses under which he could fire her, and all requests to transfer her to another department were always turned down, usually owing to her own interference. It certainly didn't help that he couldn't afford to lose her at the moment. Aside from their usual operations, the Treasury was currently coordinating with the Rune Knights in a mission to gather incriminating evidence on Fiore's largest magical artefact smuggling gang by tracing their financial records, and Ultear's skillset and unrivalled competency – not to mention her uncanny ability to get information out of suspected black market traders – were irreplaceable.

"Is that all part of your _scheme_ , Melchior?" Byron inquired, laying extra gleeful emphasis on the word.

She was supposed to be _his_ spy, goddamn it! When she had first started working for him, several months before Siegrain became a Wizard Saint, she had been ideal – extremely competent in administrative work as well as magic, and yet naïve and impressionable. For all that time she had been unquestionably loyal, and grateful that he had trusted her with such a high level of responsibility despite her inexperience. She would be nowhere without his support, and she knew it.

So when he had realized that Siegrain was becoming too influential in his own right for him to control, she had seemed like the perfect person to keep an eye on him, and report back to him any political moves that the Wizard Saint might be planning. The fact that Siegrain had turned down his offer was surprising – partly because he hadn't seemed like the kind of person who would sacrifice much of his time as an active mage to deal with the mundane side of his missions himself, and partly because it showed a level of political acumen that he would have associated more with a career politician than a Council agent. But he could have dealt with that. The real problem had been with Ultear's reaction.

She held a strange sort of fascination for the young Wizard Saint. Her interest in him was not a romantic one, but it wasn't quite a professional one either – and it certainly wasn't reciprocated, judging by how Siegrain had done his best to keep her at arm's length. Over time, he had grown perhaps more tolerant of her presence, but if there was any genuine trust there, he was doing an excellent job of concealing it.

But whatever else might have been going on, she had decided he was the one she was going to follow. And so whenever she wasn't working for Melchior, she was always looking out for Siegrain and finding the time to help him out, whether he liked it or not. Sure, she duly reported back to Melchior what the other was doing, but she never gave him anything that could have been used as leverage, and he was growing ever more certain that that was intentional.

Someone who was naïve enough to be devoted to him had seemed like a great asset at the time, but wasn't it also true that someone so impressionable could be swayed to the service of another?

Byron continued, "Or, could it be that you've unleashed something you can't control?"

"Be as smug as you want," the younger man snapped back. "You're still going down, Byron. Your seat is as good as his."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that," came the easy response. "I have already purchased a delightful little cottage in the countryside to retire to at the end of the year. What about you, Melchior, my friend? I can recommend an excellent estate agent-"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Is that so? Well, you know best, of course. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you to watch your back."

"He owes me everything!"

"He owes you nothing. He hasn't needed you from the moment he became a Wizard Saint. In fact, with talent like that, he never needed you in the first place. He'd have been able to get where he is right now all on his own, given enough time. There's nothing to stop him from moving against you, if he feels so inclined. And if you're so certain that I'm wrong, Melchior, why do you look so worried?"

A low growl escaped Melchior's lips.

"Get out while you still can," advised Byron, with a mocking smile. "The countryside really is lovely this time of year…"

* * *

Siegrain landed next to Wendy, ignoring the stares from passers-by as the bright glow of magic faded from his skin. "What's going on, Wendy?" he asked, in place of a greeting. He was serious when the situation called for it.

She was being serious too. It was evident from the way that she didn't jump on him in any form upon seeing him, instead keeping an unusually respectful distance. Her eyes had lit up when she had first seen him approaching with Carla, but now she was doing her best to look stern, while refusing to meet his gaze. "This way. Come on!" she instructed, before breaking into a run down the street.

With a shrug, he set off after her, jogging to keep up with her eager pace. She led him on a winding route through the town centre until he had given up trying to work out where they were going. All the while, he was straining his senses to try and identify any sinister magic that might have caught Wendy's attention – yet he couldn't detect anything above the roaring background noise that came from living in a bustling city with an unusually high proportion of magic-users. Even with her sensitivity to magic, finding anything in the city centre must have been almost impossible.

He was so distracted that he didn't notice she had stopped until he almost walked straight into her. They were in a part of town he didn't recognize. Unusual, slightly seedy-looking shops lined the sort of small side street that no one entered unless they had a particular reason for doing so. There weren't many pedestrians around, but not so few as to make the area seem dangerous in the middle of the day; still, it was unlikely that Wendy had just stumbled upon this place by chance, and even though they had reached their destination, and it was much quieter here, he still couldn't sense anything out of the ordinary.

Not that that stopped Wendy from pointing dramatically at the shop directly in front of them and exclaiming, "Ta-da!"

Siegrain frowned as he examined the shop. It was a narrow building in a state of minor disrepair. Though small, it had many floors above – and likely below – ground too. The interior was lit only dimly; if not for the grubby sign reading 'Open' stuck in one of the windows, he would have doubted that it was a shop at all. Squinting through the glass, he could make out a hoard of small objects displayed on tables, stacked up in piles on the floor, and lining shelves which stretched from the top to the bottom of every wall: vases, figurines, glassware, clocks, mirrors, jewellery, silver cutlery, and old, battered furniture of every shape and size. Above the door, in peeling white paint, read the single word, 'ANTIQUES'.

"You sensed dark magic… from inside the antique shop?" he asked of her, doubtfully.

"Well…" As he turned his scrutinizing gaze upon her, she became suddenly unable to look at him once again, glancing sheepishly down at the ground. Her hands fidgeted nervously with the hem of her dress. He was beginning to understand why she had been acting abnormally around him earlier. "I might have asked Carla to lie about the dark magic thing," she confessed. "I didn't think you'd come out otherwise…"

Siegrain heaved a sigh. "Wendy, I really don't have time for this."

Before he could turn around, she grabbed his sleeve defiantly. "No, I know you're busy," she protested. "That's why I thought the antique shop was a good idea."

He blinked at her. "I'm sure there's someone out there who can understand the connection between those two statements, Wendy, but I'm afraid that person isn't me."

"Well, it's simple, really," she said, letting him go now that she was certain he wasn't going to run off. "I know you've been so busy with work recently that I haven't been able to see you. There's a lot of stuff that I wanted to do, like the outdoor ice skating rink, or the boats exhibition at the museum, but then I realized that even if we do something fun today, tomorrow you're going to have to go back to work and be really busy again."

"That's kind of how jobs work, Wendy," Siegrain replied, still not quite following the girl's reasoning.

"It must be kind of sad for you at the moment, being so busy. You've got to work all day for the Council, and then you've got to go home again and be on your own in that really _really_ boring flat-"

"Hey-"

"-with only that snail statue for company, until you go straight back to work again. So I thought, if we were going to do something, what we should do is go shopping for things to put in your house to make it more exciting. That way, that flat will be more like a normal home, and when you get back from work you'll be able to relax more and be happier and be able to look at all the pretty things that we bought together." She gave him a self-satisfied smile. "See?"

"…Not really, no. And my flat isn't boring. It's functional."

Wendy gave him a disapproving look. "It _really_ is boring. You need some cute things to make it look cheerful." With a vague wave towards the shop, she added, "I know this place looks a bit creepy, but Mrs Mollins said it's the best antique shop in town. You can get really rare items at really good prices. Apparently."

"Well, I suppose she would know…"

"I'm certain that I can find a really awesome present for you in here. So, can we go antique shopping? Please?"

He looked at her and she looked back at him, her puppy-dog eyes wide and beseeching and infuriatingly adorable. He sighed in exasperation, but it was exasperation he felt towards himself, for being utterly unable to say no to this girl. Trying and failing to appear gruff, he asked, "Just out of interest, Wendy, did you bring any money with you?"

"Nope! I figured I'd borrow some off you."

"…I don't think it'd really count as a present for me if you used my own money to buy it with."

"Sure it would! Master Roubaul told me that when it comes to presents, it's the thought that counts!"

"I'm not sure that's _quite_ what he meant, you know," he sighed, and then he gave up.

 _I've missed this girl, haven't I?_

So he thought to himself, and he couldn't fight back a small smile; an echo of the times they had spent together in the past. It was at once painful and wonderful – perhaps the first genuine emotion he had felt since the aftermath of the Fantasia Parade. "Alright. Let's go shopping."

"Yay!" Wendy jumped up and down in victory, while Carla rolled her eyes and pretended that she wasn't happy for her. "Let's go, let's go!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the shop.

They had almost made it to the door when an authoritative voice rang out through the street. "Siegrain!"

At the sound, he immediately froze, stopping Wendy in her tracks as well. "Ah, crap," he muttered.

Ultear had her hands on her hips, and was glaring at the three of them. "And what exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Investigating a report of dark magic," Siegrain replied without hesitation.

She did not look impressed. "In an antique shop?"

"Dark mages are tricky creatures. They can often be found hiding in the most unlikely places." He spoke with a deadly serious expression on his face, causing Wendy to giggle.

Unfortunately, Ultear did not see the funny side. "Reports of illegal magic should be dealt with through the appropriate channels, not by a Wizard Saint who has his own work to be getting on with."

"And Wizard Saints who want to take the day off should also be dealt with through the appropriate channels; namely, the Council itself. Not by a secretary with an annoying habit of sticking her nose where it doesn't belong."

Though he was still speaking part in jest, there was a dark undertone to his voice now. He wasn't the kind of person who was rude by accident – his choice of words was a deliberate manifestation of his anger; a warning, for those who knew him well enough to spot it. Yet Ultear didn't appear at all cowed by the threat. "You should be working."

"Hey!" Wendy objected, her fingers curling more tightly around her friend's hand. "He's worked really hard recently. If he wants the afternoon off, can't he have it?"

"At this critical time? Absolutely not."

"Are you going to order me around, then, Ultear?" Siegrain dared her, coldly.

He was fully prepared for an argument, perhaps even for a fight. He didn't expect her to suddenly back down, dropping her gaze timidly towards the pavement, as if ashamed of the fact that she had been about to pick a fight with her superior. "No, of course not," she conceded softly. "If you really want to take the day off, then I have no right to stop you… I was merely surprised that you were prepared to risk letting the past few months go to waste for the sake of one shopping trip that could easily be postponed."

Siegrain said nothing. Wendy wondered, "What… do you mean?"

"What your friend is too polite to tell you, Wendy, is that he's very close to finding another R-System at the moment. However, Councillor Byron, who doesn't like Siegrain and wants to see him fail, is only a day or two behind us. If he gets there first, it'll make it much more difficult for Siegrain to move forwards, and we might even lose our lead on the R-System project completely. Every day is vital if Siegrain wants to stay ahead of his enemies, you see. And, of course, even if he gives up the race and allows Byron to take care of this R-System, there are still another two out there that we have yet to locate, and with every day that passes they move closer to completion. It is becoming less of a side project, and more of a race against time, Wendy. It's a very important mission with the fate of the world at stake. That's why I told you he was busy."

It wasn't just the warning that Byron was closing in on him that was worrying. The last R-System he had destroyed had been alarmingly close to completion. Sure, its lack of a working power source meant that that one in particular was never going to be a threat, but the fact that the project had been running for long enough now for the systems themselves to be almost ready to go was a problem. There was every chance that one of the others could be completed within a few months, and he was acutely aware of the fact that the Tower would need at least another year to finish. If he couldn't destroy the others and make sure that his was the only one in existence, he had to at least ensure it was the first to activate, and that meant not losing to Byron, and infiltrating the Council itself as soon as possible. For him, it really was a race against time with the whole world against him, and Ultear's words had hit slightly too close to home.

Destroying the other R-Systems – the one immediate goal that kept him calm, kept him sane, kept the nightmares at bay; that allowed him to keep living this life without having to confront the memories that Fantasia had thrown up; that suppressed the terrifying realizations which had arisen when his identity had been called into question – could he really jeopardize all that for the sake of one day with this girl? The fear of losing that artificial sense of stability silently stole his feelings of fondness and replaced them with doubt.

Wendy's gentle voice interrupted his train of thought. "Siegrain, is that what's going on?"

"Yes," he admitted quietly. "Ultear's right."

"Oh." Even though she was the one whose day was on the verge of being ruined, Wendy looked up at him with an apology in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I really wouldn't have dragged you all the way out here if I had known you were in the middle of something so important."

"I know. I'm sorry, Wendy. I really have to work right now."

She gave him a wonderful smile. She was trying so hard not to let her sorrow show. "It's okay, I understand. The Council really need you right now, don't they?"

"They do." On impulse, he crouched down so that they were at the same height, and he put his hands on her shoulders. "I'll come by to visit you soon, Wendy. I promise I will. At the weekend, or… or maybe the weekend after. As soon as I can."

"Okay." She nodded once, as cheerfully as she could. "Then I'll see you soon."

There was something else he wanted to say, but he couldn't quite find the words for it. Not trusting himself to smile convincingly, he nodded to her once and then began walking after Ultear, back in the direction of the Council offices.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** First of all, thanks for a great response to last week's chapter! You can probably tell I had a lot of fun doing that one, and getting such a strong response made me a very happy author. As you can see, things haven't completely fallen apart in the aftermath of Fantasia. I_ _t took two years for Jellal to reach the point he was at before Fantasia, and that wasn't all going to come undone overnight. On the other hand, his coping mechanism is only making him more and more vulnerable. He's pushing away those who are trying to help him, including Wendy, and drawing closer to Ultear, who has no strong links to "Siegrain" and so is a lot easier for him to deal with than his former friends. But Wendy is still fighting for him, and even Ultear admits that things could go either way from here. This unstable equilibrium isn't going to last forever... ~CS_


	20. Yorozuya Wendy-chan

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Yorozuya Wendy-chan-**

"Well, I guess that's that," Carla sighed. "Unless you've got a Plan C hidden away somewhere?"

When she received no response, she glanced over her shoulder to check that Wendy was still keeping up. The girl followed morosely a few metres behind her, paying little attention to where she was going. She had tried so hard to act as if everything was okay in front of Siegrain, but it didn't change how upset she really felt, and Carla, who knew her better than anyone, couldn't just let her suffer in silence.

"Wendy, are you- look out!"

"Hmm?" The girl glanced up in time to see the lamppost, but not in time to stop herself from walking into it. "Owwie…" she mumbled, rubbing her forehead and giving the offending piece of street furniture a reproachful stare.

"Seriously, Wendy, how did you ever survive going on so many missions for the Council when you're this clumsy?"

"I'm not entirely sure," came the chagrined response. Wendy gave the cat a rueful smile. "But it's probably to do with having someone who actually knew what he was doing looking out for me."

If nothing else, that lamppost seemed to have knocked some sense into her. She brushed her hair back into place and gave a sigh. "There is no Plan C, Carla. If he says he's busy, then he's busy. There's nothing we can do about that."

"Yeah, but…"

"I know. He seemed really sad, didn't he? I hope he's okay."

"That woman…" Carla trembled with all the anger that Wendy would never allow herself to express.

"It must be scary, being an adult and actually having to work," Wendy observed knowingly. "Anyway, we should probably get back to the guild…"

Her voice tailed off as she glanced around the busy street they had ended up in. Carla watched her for a moment or two in puzzlement before guessing the most likely source of her friend's confusion. "Ah. Wendy, the station is that way."

"No, not that. I knew that. Well, okay, I didn't know that, but that's not what I was saying… I thought I sensed… aha!"

With that excited shout, Wendy dashed across the road like an indigo blur of energy and burst through the door of a shop. Carla followed, with a more normal level of liveliness, to find herself in a small café. By the looks of their menu, the place specialized in crepes both savoury and sweet. Wendy, who was staring at all the toppings on offer with sheer awestruck delight, had apparently just stumbled into her idea of paradise.

"Carla, look at this place! We've got to get something!" Turning to the lady behind the counter, who seemed a little alarmed by the enthusiasm of the girl who was currently bouncing on the balls of her feet in an attempt to contain her excitement, Wendy added, "A white chocolate and marshmallow crepe, please! Carla, what do you want?"

"Uh… strawberries and cream, I suppose… but wait, Wendy, we don't have any money!"

"That's okay. He'll pay." She pointed happily to a certain armoured Knight Captain stood in front of the till, who gave her a bemused look in response. "Right?"

The cashier glanced awkwardly at him. "Is that alright, Lahar?"

"It's fine," Lahar sighed. "They're friends of mine."

"And even if they weren't, I bet you'd pay for them anyway, wouldn't you?" she asked, with a knowing smile.

Wendy just grinned up at the Knight in relief. "Thanks! We were kind of depending on Siegrain to get us lunch, but that's not really an option any more, so you really helped us out there." Wandering over with her usual happy curiosity, she peered at the crepe he was in the process of paying for. "What's in there?"

"Salmon and cream cheese."

"Salmon?" She gave him a look of pure horror. "Who puts salmon in a crepe?"

It was hard not to laugh at her reaction. In fact, it was hard not to be cheerful full stop when Wendy was around. "Normal people do, when they're having it for lunch," he assured her. "Not all of us can eat nothing but dessert three meals a day, you know."

As she watched the shop assistant ladle hot chocolate sauce onto her crepe, she advised him sagely, "Well, you're missing out."

"I'll bear that in mind." Once he had paid for the food, he asked, "So, you two are here to visit Siegrain, right?"

"Yeah, but… it didn't really work out."

"I could tell that much from the fact that the two of you are wandering around unaccompanied in the city. What happened?"

"It's quite a long story." She gave him an anxious look. "You're not busy, are you? I never know any more, since you stopped doing regular patrols."

It was probably quite fortunate that Lahar was so used to her ramblings that he paid no notice to that final comment. "I'm not busy, though I do need to return to Headquarters. Can you walk and eat?"

"Yup!"

Carla hastily added, "Yes, provided you keep an eye on Wendy to make sure she doesn't walk into any more lampposts."

"Hey…"

Shaking his head, and trying not to smile, the Knight led the way at a leisurely pace, and the three of them began to meander in the direction of the Council building. Wendy had cheered up immensely, thanks in part to running into one of her other friends, but mostly owing to the delicious lunch she had managed to obtain despite not having any money. Lahar wasn't exactly complaining – the world always looked a little brighter when Wendy was around.

"So, what happened between you and Siegrain?" he prompted.

"Ah! Right! Well, we hadn't seen him for ages, so we decided to come to Era to see if he was okay. Me and Carla evaded the guards and sneaked into the Council Headquarters to surprise him-" Here, her exuberant explanation suddenly came to a halt as she gave Lahar an anxious glance. "Actually, I probably shouldn't have told you that. Are you going to arrest me?"

"Arrest…?" When he saw how serious she was, he couldn't help chuckling. "Of course I'm not going to arrest you. Though, I will admit it's a little worrying to hear that you got past the patrols. I may need to have words with whoever was on duty this morning."

Wendy added, as if to try and reassure him, "It wasn't very easy. We had to go all the way to the back of the building before we found a door that had been left unlocked."

Carla frowned at her. "I don't think that's helping, Wendy."

"…Oh. Well, anyway, we never got to Siegrain, because Ultear caught us. She said he was too busy to meet us, and threw us out of the building."

"Ultear, huh?" he remarked, in a knowing tone of voice. "You know, I really don't understand what my brother sees in her."

"You mean he's still…?" Carla inquired, half in amazement and half in despair.

"Oh yes. It's not exactly the first time he's acted like this over a woman, but I've never known it to go on for so long before. I mean, at the start – well, it was obvious to everyone except him that she was just leading him on, but we could kind of understand why he might still have had hope. But over the past couple of months she's made it extremely clear that she's not interested. I suppose even teasing him stops being fun after a while. He just doesn't know when to quit."

"You can kind of see it though," Wendy reasoned; as always, the mediator of any discussion, prepared to defend those who were absent, or even those she didn't like. "I mean, she's smart, and pretty, and always polite, and a _really_ powerful mage-"

"Is she? I didn't know that. I don't think I've ever seen her use magic."

"Really? Doesn't she do the same job as Siegrain?"

"No, she works in the Treasury – that's the financial side of the Council's business. Well, that's her official job, anyway. She has been hanging around with Siegrain more and more in recent weeks, though, so who knows any more?"

The girl mused, "I guess that's why we ran into her, then. So, anyway, after we got kicked out of the building, I asked Carla to fly up to Siegrain's window and pretend that we'd found some dark magic in the town so he'd have to come out and investigate, and then we'd get to talk to him. And come to think of it, I probably shouldn't have told you that either…"

"It's fine, Wendy, really," he reassured her, smiling.

"Well, it worked and he came to meet us, and even when we explained that it might have been a bit of a lie, he still forgave us and we were going to go shopping together, except that Ultear must have chased him out of the offices because she showed up pretty quickly and dragged him back to work."

Lahar said nothing, so Wendy continued, hesitantly, "Well, I suppose it was the right thing to do. He is busy and all. But… I don't know. He was really distant at first, and then when we made plans to go shopping he actually seemed to get a bit happier, and I thought he was really going to skip work for us, like he used to… but then he didn't, even though it made him look sad again."

The Knight considered that in solemn silence for a while. "He's been like that for a while now – not exactly unfriendly, but not friendly either. Wary of everyone, even his colleagues or his friends. I've only spoken to him a handful of times outside work over the past few months. I don't think my brother has had any luck at getting through to him either, and you know those two – they used to be close. Then again, Matthias has actually been working hard recently, for a change. His workload has pretty much doubled now that Siegrain is focussing exclusively on the R-System project, which probably doesn't help, but…"

When his voice faded before reaching the end of the sentence, Carla prompted him, "But what?"

"Well, I was just thinking that Siegrain's acting now like he did back when he first started working for the Council. I didn't know him back then, of course, but that was the point – no one did, not really. He kept himself to himself. If you tried to approach him, he was cold, arrogant and standoffish; as openly hostile as possible while remaining within the bounds of Council etiquette. Though he appeared respectful to those of higher rank, it was always in a slightly sardonic way, as if he felt contempt for everyone around him.

"But that changed… It was just after the Council went to the Tower of Heaven and found that he was innocent, if I remember correctly. He slowly started interacting with others, and opening up a little more… becoming more like a human being, you know? And now… well, it's not exactly like he's gone straight back to where he was before, I'll admit. He's not so much hostile as he is distant. But it's almost as bad, and we just don't know how to deal with it. I wondered if it was just us, but if he's acting the same around you, Wendy, then perhaps something really did happen to him."

Wendy didn't say anything. Her brow was furrowed in thought; her face bore a deep frown.

The Knight continued, "If something's bothering him, we can't exactly help unless he opens up to us first, and he _really_ doesn't tolerate people asking him if he's okay. And just between you and me, Wendy, I think he's been having nightmares."

"Nightmares?" She cast him a worried glance. To any child, that idea might have been an alarming one, but Wendy wasn't thinking of the occasional bad dream that she had – the memories of how Carla had used to suffer from painful visions she could not distinguish from reality were foremost in her mind. Lahar was not aware of what Carla and Wendy had been through, but he recognized that look on Wendy's face – the look of someone who understood the true gravity of the situation.

"It was when we did the last R-System raid a couple of months ago. My unit was accompanying Siegrain and a couple of the other agents. Our plan relied heavily on him because Matthias was busy with a different mission, though of course he was distraught about missing out on his chance to show off in front of Ultear, who was there as Councillor Melchior's assistant. The location itself was very isolated, so we had to make camp nearby and spend the night in order to attack at first light. There was nothing out of the ordinary, the enemy didn't know we were there, everything was going according to plan – and then we just heard this scream. We thought we were under attack… but it was him. He was asleep – and he wouldn't wake up, either. It was a good ten seconds before we could break him out of it, and I swear, it was the longest ten seconds of my life.

"Afterwards, he was furious. Absolutely furious. He lashed out at anyone who went near him. I know it was only because he was scared, and he was simply projecting that fear of whatever it was he'd seen onto those around him, but that didn't make it any less nerve-wracking to be around him that night. There was nothing we could do, so we just went back to bed, though I don't think anyone actually slept after that… Only, when the sun rose, we found that the R-System had already been destroyed. He had gone in that night on his own and taken out the entire cult singlehandedly. It was…"

He gave a sigh before continuing frankly. "Well, to be honest, Wendy, it was terrifying. I always knew he was powerful, but it's one thing to see him using that power to save everyone… it's quite another to witness so much destruction brought about by the hands of one man. But what could we do? In the end, we just returned to the Council, and no one dared to bring it up again. But sometimes I see him in the office in the morning, and he clearly hasn't slept. I think his new devotion to his work is his way of trying to convince himself that he's still in control and everything's alright."

"Why didn't he say something was wrong?" Wendy asked, helplessly. "Maybe we could have done something… No, he's the kind of person who can't easily ask for help from others, no matter how bad things get. And those people are always the ones who need help the most."

Struck by the girl's insight, Lahar found himself staring at her in surprise. It was then that he noticed she had hardly even touched her crepe – she had been so caught up in her worry for her friend that eating the delicious food she had longed for hadn't even occurred to her.

When she sensed him looking, she met his gaze with resolve glittering in her eyes. "I want to help him. I want to do something for him, like all the things he's done for me."

What that something was going to be, however, remained to be seen. She was still deep in thought about the matter when the three of them re-entered the Council Headquarters. There was no need to employ her ninja skills this time round – she was with a Captain now, and though the Knights on duty at the gate gave her and Carla curious looks as they entered, not one of them challenged their right to be there.

That didn't mean their arrival was entirely uneventful, however. Although no guards pounced on the two of them, Lahar was in demand from the moment he set foot upon Council soil, as evidenced by a Knight who ran immediately up to them. Lahar was clearly expecting this to happen, as his only greeting to the newcomer was the sharp question, "Are they here?"

The Knight was probably twice Lahar's age, and yet subordinate to him in rank. He cast a pointed gaze towards Wendy and Carla, and when Lahar refused to acknowledge the gesture, the Knight took it as an unspoken instruction to deliver his report in front of them. "No, sir." At the alarmed look which crossed Lahar's face, the Knight explained, "Their train has been delayed."

"Delayed?" Lahar repeated. "Is it-?"

"At the moment, we have no evidence to suggest that the delay is anything out of the ordinary. However…"

"It's too much of a coincidence for my liking."

"Evidently for the Council's too." The Knight gave the wry smile of someone who felt relaxed enough around his Captain not to have to stick to formality. "They've sent Matthias out to meet them. If he decides the situation is suspicious, he'll escort them the rest of the way to Era on foot."

Lahar nodded slowly. "Alright. Keep pushing at the transport authorities until they give us a solid reason for the train's delay. There's nothing we can do for the time being except wait. I'll be around, so let me know the minute they arrive at Headquarters."

"Of course."

A gentle touch on his arm reminded Lahar that he wasn't alone; he glanced down to see Wendy looking up at him earnestly. "What's going on?" Then, more tactful than most adults he knew, she added politely, "If it's alright for me to know something like that…"

With a faint smile, he replied, "Of course it's alright." The Knight opened his mouth as if to make a protest; Lahar silenced him with a look. "Essentially, Wendy, while a team from the mage guild Blue Pegasus were out on a regular job, they came across an artefact that they – backed up by the assessment of their Guild Master – believe might be connected to forbidden magic in some way. They duly reported it to the Council, who requested that they bring it here for analysis. It could be dangerous, or even cursed."

"I see," Wendy said, with a grave nod.

"There's nothing we can do until they get here, of course. And even when they do… Well, we'd normally ask Siegrain to take a look at it, but with how he's been recently…"

That last line was never meant to be said in conversation; it was merely the end of the now-familiar line his train of thought had been following. Since he had said it out loud, however, he expected some sort of neutral response from Wendy, either sharing his worry or defending her friend's hectic work schedule. To his surprise, she did neither of those things, instead saying, "Maybe I could have a look at it? I don't know very much about magic, but I could probably tell you if it's dangerous or not."

He stared at her for a moment, and then he nodded. "I might hold you to that. Thanks, Wendy."

She beamed back at him, that broad smile he had seen so often when he had accompanied her and Siegrain on previous raids; the one he had implicitly assumed was reserved for Siegrain alone. But that wasn't the case, was it? It was the simple fact of being useful to people she cared about that made this girl happy. She would grow up to be a wonderful mage. He found himself wondering if he might one day be able to convince her to leave her guild and work for the Council instead.

Briskly turning his attention back to the matter at hand, Lahar requested of the waiting Knight, "Keep me updated as the situation progresses."

"Yes, sir." Taking that to be a dismissal, he nodded in respect and jogged off, undoubtedly to deliver his message elsewhere.

"What now?" asked Wendy.

"Well, I've got to wait around here until the Blue Pegasus mages arrive. You're free to do pretty much whatever you want. Go back into the town and find something to do, or you can stay here at the Council with me if you'd like, though I probably oughtn't to let you run around the building unaccompanied."

"Hmm." Her brow furrowed, comically deep in thought for a child. "I've been thinking. Siegrain might have laughed at my shopping plan earlier, but even though he thought it was silly, he seemed really sad when he found out he couldn't come with me. So since he's too busy, I have to go in his place. I want to go shopping in the town and buy something that will cheer him up!"

Lahar nodded his approval. "An admirable plan, Wendy."

"Except you're forgetting the most important thing, as always, Wendy," Carla interrupted, with a cough. "How are you going to buy him something nice to put in his house when you _still_ don't have any money?"

"…Ah." Never one to be down for long, Wendy fished optimistically in her pockets for something valuable she might have overlooked, but the only thing she had on her was her train ticket home. She stared at it until logic won out, and she placed it back in her pocket. "I probably shouldn't sell that, or we won't be able to get home. Ah well. Maybe next time I'll borrow some money from Master Roubaul."

Lahar suggested, "You could always earn some money of your own."

"How?"

"You're a guild mage, aren't you? There are always jobs going for guild mages."

"But…" Far from seeming enthusiastic at the prospect, a downcast look entered the girl's eyes. "I'm not sure I can. I mean, whenever we go on jobs, Siegrain always does all the fighting. I really don't think I could manage on my own…"

"Wendy, you do realize that not all mage jobs are like the ones Siegrain does, right? In fact, the whole point of his job is to do all the missions which are too difficult for anyone else! Have you never been out as part of a Cait Shelter team?"

She gave a solemn shake of her head. "We don't get many jobs sent to our guild, and I think Master Roubaul deals with them all."

"Well then, no wonder you have such a skewed idea of what working as a mage entails, if you're basing your entire assessment of it on the activities of the Council's top agent!" And despite that, it hadn't put her off wanting to help Siegrain or accompany the Council on jobs in the slightest. One day, she really would be a fantastic mage, wouldn't she? "While it's true that a lot of the requests sent to guilds involve fighting enemies, many of them aren't dangerous at all. I'm sure there are some that you can handle."

"I don't know… I don't really know very much, you see, so when it comes to being responsible… I'm not sure I can really do very much on my own…"

What with all the help she had given the Rune Knights over the past year or so, it was easy to forget that she was still just a young girl, and one who lived in a remote village, as different as possible from the bustling modern society of Era, on top of that. Even if her awareness of her own shortcomings was remarkably mature for her age, it didn't make those weaknesses any easier to overcome.

He wanted to help her. He could have just lent her some money and let her go shopping – though Siegrain had warned him about that dangers of "lending" Wendy money – but he knew her well now, and she would be a lot happier if she could buy her friend something with money she had earned herself. No, he couldn't really send her off in all her inexperience to deal with legitimate mage guild requests on her own, and nor could he leave the Council Headquarters to accompany her on such a job while they were still waiting for the Blue Pegasus mages to arrive, but there was still something he could do, wasn't there? Siegrain might have been too busy to spend time with her, but that didn't mean he had to be as well.

"There are always jobs available around the Council," he suggested. "I'm sure we can find some that you can do."

"Like what?" Dubious, and still doubting herself. He could tell she was still thinking about the battles in the Rune Knight training grounds, or the R-System raids, or the mountain of complicated paperwork Siegrain seemed to be spending most of his time ploughing through at the moment.

"Well." He clapped his hands together briskly – a gesture he had unconsciously adopted as a way of covering his indecision in front of his Knights – while he glanced around for inspiration. "Take those flowerbeds, for example. Don't they look a bit dry to you? I'm sure the head gardener would appreciate it if you watered them for him."

He hadn't anticipated quite how much her eyes would light up at the prospect. "That's definitely something I can do! Although… I'm not sure it's the sort of thing I should get paid for…"

"Wendy, guild mages do this kind of thing all the time," he promised her. "The ability to do odd jobs of all kinds is just as important to a practising mage as the ability to fight with magic. Besides, have you seen how big the gardens are? Even if you only do the top lawn, I'd say it'll be worth a hundred jewels, at least."

At his encouragement, all her doubts vanished. "Okay! We'll do it!" Carla nodded in affirmation.

"Good. You see that shed over there? There's usually a watering can left round the far side of it, and you can use the hose over by that wall to fill it up."

"I know!" She grinned at him. "I tripped over that watering can the first time we tried to get in. Though, I probably shouldn't have told you that…"

"It's _fine_ , Wendy," he repeated, with only a little exasperation, and with that last reassurance, she and Carla were running down the path towards the little shed.

He hadn't lied about guild mages doing odd jobs just as often as they did big important missions; it was one of the major differences between working for a guild and working as an agent of the Council, where the only jobs they ever did were serious ones. He hadn't exactly lied about the job he had sent her off doing, either. While he knew full well that the flowerbeds hadn't been watered because heavy rain had been forecast for later on that day – and he could already see storm clouds beginning to gather in the distance – he also knew it wasn't the sort of thing she was likely to notice, and that way she could feel as though she was genuinely helping out.

As she returned to him, beaming with happiness even as she and Carla strained to drag a full-to-the-brim watering can as big as she was along the gravel path, he couldn't help feeling as though it was alright to deceive someone for a good reason, just this once. Why she couldn't just have filled the watering can half-full and done two trips was beyond him, but then again it was that unbridled enthusiasm that was so wonderful about her, wasn't it?

He kept a close eye on her as she carefully sprinkled water over the rows of neat spring flowers. A few curious glances were directed at Wendy from passing Knights, and even more at him, but nobody stopped to question him. He must have looked like he knew what he was doing, though really he was just making it all up as he went along. The fact that he was somehow getting away with that deception made him feel more like an adult than even his rank as Captain did.

"And… done!" Wendy announced, setting the oversized watering can down on the path in front of him.

"Good job, you two. The head gardener dropped by while you were busy and left me with some money to give you as your fee." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred-jewel note, which he handed to Wendy.

She took it eagerly, holding it up to the sky with an expression of sheer joy, as if she'd never seen real money before. "Look, Carla, look! We actually earned some money! Think of all the things we can buy with this!"

"You do realize that's not actually that much money, right?" Lahar checked, with a weary sigh. "If you really are wanting to go antique shopping for Siegrain's flat, you're going to need a lot more than that."

"Then we'll just have to keep working!" she proclaimed, her enthusiasm not diminished in the slightest. "Where else can we help out?"

"I was thinking, the valets are always in need of an extra pair of hands."

Wendy blinked at him. "The… what?"

"Well, you know how foreign dignitaries and other important people always travel in fancy carriages when they come to visit the Magic Council? When they get here, it's the job of the valet to look after the carriages and the horses while those people are meeting the Council. The carriages usually get dirty during the journey, and important people can't be seen travelling in dirty carriages, so the valet also has to clean them. It's vital that this is done well, as the Council has to make a good impression on its guests. But it's not exactly a fun job, so-"

Was she the only girl her age whose eyes would light up at the prospect of getting to clean dirty vehicles? Quite possibly. "I want to do it! That's the sort of thing I can do!"

"Right, then."

He led Wendy and Carla to the back of the giant main building. Throughout the winter the visitors' carriages would have been kept safely inside the garages, but the world was finally beginning to wake from its long hibernation, and while it was by no means warm outside, the brisk air and the watery sunlight had made the transition from unpleasant to bracing and refreshing; good for the health rather than an excuse to stay indoors. No fewer than four elaborate carriages were now parked in a spacious courtyard. Behind them, the sliding door which led to the interior of the vast garage was pulled fully open, allowing for easy access to the industrial-sized hose and pressure washer, along with the more mundane pieces of equipment stacked up against the walls.

While Wendy tried to catch a glimpse of the prosaic wonders no doubt hidden in the garage – marvelling at this side of the Council that she had never seen before; the ordinary, day-to-day affairs that no one but those who worked here ever got to see, yet without which those with high-powered jobs like the councillors simply would not be able to function – Lahar talked to the head valet on duty. He explained everything, and then, after sending Wendy and Carla out of earshot under the pretence of finding a bucket to use, he explained everything again. The valet had kids of his own; he nodded knowingly, and after seeing how earnest the Captain was he finally relented, and agreed to let Wendy help out under the condition that Lahar took full responsibility for her actions.

So, under the Knight's careful supervision, she began the process of washing the smallest (and hence least valuable) of the carriages. Lahar intended to help out from the start, but he quickly found that aside from some early advice on what kind of polish to use on those brass embellishments or the best way to dry the glass without leaving streaks – mundane subjects upon which the Captain's knowledge impressed even the reluctant valet – his input wasn't really needed. With Carla's help, even Wendy's height wasn't a hindrance.

Her eagerness to please merged with her determination and became a meticulous dedication to her task far beyond what the valet had been expecting. Upon discovering that she could wriggle under the carriages to clean the places that he couldn't easily reach himself, she happily took over that duty for all the carriages, not just the one she had been tasked with cleaning, much to his appreciation. She and Carla were covered in bubbles and soaked to the skin with warm soapy water, which very quickly became cold soapy water, glittering like little jewels in her long hair. And when all four carriages stood sparkling clean upon the slippery cobblestones, no one – not even the valet, who could finish his shift an hour early thanks to her efforts – looked as happy as Wendy did.

Lahar had been prepared to cover the cost of this venture as well, but to his surprise, Wendy's temporary boss had been moved by her hard work. "Since you did half the work for me," he had told her and Carla gruffly, "You can have half of what the Council would be paying me for this shift." And he handed the awestruck girl six one-hundred-jewel notes.

As Wendy danced around in excitement, working out how many pretty figurines she'd be able to buy Siegrain with that much money, the valet brushed off Lahar's quiet gratitude. "She's a good girl. I can see why you'd want to go out of your way to help her. Oh, and Wendy!" Here the girl skidded to a halt in front of him and looked up at him with lively, expectant eyes. "If you're looking for more work, I heard that the main oven in the café over at the Knights' training ground gave up the ghost this morning."

"I'm not sure how good I'd be at fixing an oven…" Wendy said doubtfully.

Lahar chuckled. "No, Wendy, we called in some engineers this morning and they'll have fitted a new appliance by now. However, the café is known for its fresh homemade cakes, and they'll be really behind schedule on today's baking because of the oven being out of action. They could probably use some help in the kitchen. Not to mention, working in front of a fire would be a good way to get the two of you warmed up."

"We'll do it!" Wendy announced immediately. "Me and Carla help out with the cooking all the time at our guild!"

So the unlikely trio set out for the next stop on their odd jobs tour of the Council Headquarters. No matter where they went on the complex, everyone knew Lahar – he was not only a Rune Knight Captain, but the youngest Captain they had nominated in quite some time, so that even those who wanted nothing to do with the military side of the organization would have struggled to miss the stir surrounding his promotion. At the training facility, however, this familiarity went far beyond simple fame. He had spent most of his life and career here, training, learning, and helping out in his free time; he knew most of the staff and regulars in the café from back when he was still a trainee, and his new rank hadn't affected his friendship with them in the slightest. Everyone knew him, and everyone liked him.

So when he entered the kitchens, explained the situation to the chefs, personally vouched for her reliability, and promised to supervise her at all times, it never even occurred to them to say no.

The café itself was distinct from any of the large mess halls which were dotted around the Rune Knight facility. It was attached to the training ground itself, with outside tables overlooking the arena where Knights and agents could challenge each other. The building favoured practicality over style: the tables were a dull grey steel, their only decorations the repetitive swirls imprinted in the surface from the manufacturing process; the chairs were similarly uninviting, though deceptively comfortable to sit in; between the large windows and the unadorned magnolia walls, the interior was bright and airy but there was little in the way of decoration. When a high proportion of its patrons were Knights taking a break during their intensive physical training regimes, and would come in sweaty and exhausted, this was undoubtedly a wise decision. Likewise, its menu would have been an unusual choice for a high street café: an eclectic mix of the usual fare – cakes, sandwiches, snacks and even parfaits for anyone who wanted to treat themselves at the end of a particularly hard day – and smoothies, fruit, supplements, and enough obscure health foods to fit into the most extreme of diets.

Given this, it would not have been surprising for such a café to have an intimidating atmosphere, and yet it was the total opposite. It was a welcome break from the intensity that seemed to emanate from the training ground itself. The staff were always amiable, and there was never a shortage of good company. After an uncertain start, Wendy quickly came to the conclusion that working in the café was her favourite of all the jobs she had done so far that day.

She began with loading and unloading trays of baked goods from the industrial oven, which, for someone from a remote village where most of the cooking was done by roasting or stewing over an open fire, was a marvel in itself. At first, her role was merely to remove the products on command, but when it became clear that she could control the fire lacrima powering the oven far more accurately with her magic than the dials on the machine could, she slowly took on a more active job, adjusting the temperature when necessary to cook the sweets to perfection.

Then she, Carla and even Lahar were roped into helping to decorate the cakes according to the head chef's designs, and despite the Knight's protests that he really wasn't cut out for this sort of work, the cupcakes he iced were the most professional-looking of them all. They had caught up with the production schedule by the mid-afternoon shift, and the kitchen was soon back to normal operation.

Wendy, with her face flushed from the heat of the oven, held a small stack of hundred-jewel notes in her hand, her reward for helping out that afternoon. Carla was carrying a small bag of shortbread biscuits that the two of them had made; in a remarkable – though perhaps unsurprising to anyone who knew them – display of willpower, neither of the girls had touched a single one of the biscuits, having resolved to share them with Siegrain when he finally finished work for the day.

"I really enjoyed working here," she thanked the head chef afterwards, with a sincere bow, to be told, equally sincerely, that it was a pleasure to have her and she could come by at any time.

Then he added, with a crafty glint in his eye, "Though, if you wanted to stick around for a bit longer, I do have another job you could have a go at. How do you feel about giving waitressing a shot?"

* * *

"Wendy," began Lahar. There was more than just doubt in his tone – a mixture of bafflement, suspicion and a worry as to where this conversation was heading lent his voice an unusually dubious cadence. "What, exactly, is that?"

"It's a maid outfit!" she replied, brightly and unnecessarily. It was unnecessary because there was nothing else that the black dress with smart white lace trimmings that she was holding up could possibly be, and it was bright because that was just how Wendy perceived the world, regardless of how different his own reaction might have been. "Apparently it's left over from some big event the café ran last year."

"I can see that, but why do _I_ have to wear it?"

She looked at him as though it were obvious. "Because it's far too big for me to wear."

That was true – even though the hands she was grasping the shoulders of the outfit with were raised high above her head, the hem of the skirt still came down to below her knees. It also wasn't an answer to his question.

"Well, yes, but why does either of us have to wear it?"

"The boss said that if we were going to do table service at the café for one afternoon, we should at least go all-out and make it into a maid café," Carla explained neutrally. "He thinks it would be a great way of attracting customers."

"I'm sure it would be, and if you want to wear the outfit, Wendy, then you can go ahead. I, on the other hand, am more than happy to help, but I draw the line at doing so in a dress."

He wasn't entirely convinced by the head chef's plan to get Wendy and Carla to wait on tables for the quiet late afternoon shift in the café – only a person who hadn't known the girl for long enough to observe her innate clumsiness could think that that was anything other than a recipe for disaster. On the other hand, Wendy was adorable, especially when she was trying her hardest to please others, and a little natural clumsiness would probably only serve to further endear her to the customers. He himself wouldn't mind supervising that she got the orders right if it helped her achieve her goal. Going full-on maid café, however, was pushing it a little too far.

Especially when he was the one being forced to wear the outfit.

Wendy's face fell. "Aww… but it would be fun."

Her innocence was sweet, but also a little frustrating. "Fun for the Knights, perhaps. And for you. But not for me. Wendy, there is no way on earth that I can go out there in front of a room full of Knights, some of whom are in my unit, and some of whom are my _superiors_ , wearing a maid outfit."

"Why not?"

"Because they'd never let me live it down. I'd be the laughing stock of the entire organization."

Just because she was usually so happy didn't mean that Wendy couldn't pull off looking downcast just as well as any other cute kid – and it was only made worse by the fact that he knew her sadness was completely genuine. He understood all too well why Siegrain, one of the most confident, controlled and charismatic people he knew, had such trouble refusing this girl anything that she asked.

"But they'd know it was just a bit of fun, though, right?" she tried. "Some of the other men who work in the kitchens said they were going to wear one too. It's just doing something silly for the café, because it's fun and because we can. So, please?"

"Well…" The dubious edge hadn't left his voice, but he reached out reluctantly. His fingers brushed the black fabric, leaving a trace of white flour on the dress, and just as he was about to take it from her, a voice of mild amusement cut through the pantry.

"Am I interrupting something here?"

Immediately Lahar grabbed the closest thing to hand – a tin of some description – and hurled it in the direction of the voice; as nonchalant as ever, Matthias snatched it deftly out of the air before it could hit anything. "Ooh, tinned strawberries, don't mind if I do."

"How long have you been there?" Lahar demanded, though that accusation was essentially his standard greeting to his brother.

"All of about five seconds," came the calm reply, as he indicated the door behind him, which still swung back and forth about its equilibrium position. "I don't make a habit of sneaking up on you, whatever you might think."

While Lahar grumbled something unintelligible, Matthias returned the tinned fruit to its appropriate place and glanced around the rest of the stock room, completely at ease. "You know, when I heard you were in the café, I expected to find you eating or something, not hanging out in the pantry with a maid outfit. I'm not one to judge, Lahar, but I don't think that work is an appropriate place for you to be indulging your fetishes."

"I hate you."

As always, this only made Matthias grin. Before he could say anything else to provoke his younger brother, however, the door to the pantry swung open again and the head chef peered inside, probably wondering about the fate of his maid outfit. He looked surprised to see Matthias there – especially when the agent immediately assumed an authoritative tone of voice, one that he rarely employed even on missions.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to call a halt to the whole maid café plan, for the time being. I need to borrow these three."

The chef nodded, acknowledging the other's authority; for his part, Lahar just glowered at his brother once more, angry that he had known the reason behind the maid outfit and feigned ignorance just to tease him further.

To Lahar, Wendy and Carla, Matthias added, "I'm going outside. I expect that when the three of you join me, you'll have put an end to this silly nonsense and be ready to do your jobs."

And with that he strode away, leaving the three of them to exchange suitably chastised glances.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I wanted to do a happy little domestic chapter. So sue me. ~CS_


	21. Crisis Point

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Crisis Point-**

By the time that Wendy, Carla and Lahar had tidied themselves up, brushed off all traces of their stint as trainee chefs, and returned the forlorn maid outfit to the store room, they were in a much more serious mood. In fact, it was Matthias, sat sipping a milkshake outside the café with his feet resting on the table, who wasn't acting appropriately for his job – but then again, that was nothing new.

"I assume the fact that you're here means that the Blue Pegasus mages arrived safely," Lahar began.

"Indeed. Turns out the delay on their train wasn't sabotage at all – the storm had brought a tree down across the line." He laughed at the disappointed look Wendy shot him; she had been hoping for a daring tale of adventure. "It happens. Life isn't always that exciting – and trust me, Wendy, once you've been in this job for as long as I have, you really start to appreciate just how precious these boring, mundane events are. Those days when everything just turns out to be a misunderstanding, and you can go home and laugh about it with your friends… they're the days we live for."

"I'd take an ordinary storm over fighting a dark mage any day of the week," Lahar admitted. "I look forward to the day when inclement weather is the worst danger our society has to face."

"Not that dragging an enormous tree trunk off the railway line in torrential rain was much fun either," Matthias added with a grin, before the conversation could become too sombre. "The weather really is quite severe down in the south at the moment. I only just managed to stay ahead of the worst of it getting back – the storm will probably reach Era this evening. So the mages ended up going back to their guild, before the weather got any worse, and I brought the pendant here. You still alright to take a look at it for us, Wendy?"

"Yup!"

With a nod of approval at her enthusiasm, he tugged at a thin string around his neck, which revealed itself to be the long, fine chain of a necklace, most of which had been tucked away beneath his armour. He pulled it over his head and handed it to Wendy. A small octagonal medallion hung from the chain, small enough to fit snugly into the palm of her hand. The shape of a snake was carved into it; elegant and intricate, it might have been a stylish design, were it not for the sinister light which seemed to glimmer in the snake's ruby eyes.

She gazed at it for a few moments, though she was doing much more than just looking with her eyes. She turned it over slowly in her hands, letting the light catch on the twin fiery gemstones. "I don't think it's dangerous," she said, looking up at Matthias. "It's creepy, but it's… what's the word Siegrain uses? Dor-something… dormouse? No, doormat!"

"…Dormant?" Lahar hazarded.

"That's the one! The dangerous ones are the ones that wake up when they feel me looking at them, but this isn't one of those, so it's fine."

Matthias nodded. "I was pretty sure it was something along those lines, but it's reassuring to know that it probably didn't put me under some sort of curse on the way here. Just out of curiosity, Wendy, do you know what it's supposed to do?"

"Nope." She could have described what the magic looked like to her, but she had learned from experience that other people didn't find that very helpful. Instead, she offered, "That's the sort of thing Siegrain is good at."

"I'll go ask him then." Casually swinging it around his finger as if it wasn't an ancient, creepy artefact, Matthias got to his feet. "Well, I'll get him to take a look at it when he's not busy doing whatever the hell it is he does these days."

"And if he _is_ busy," Lahar interjected hastily, "Then at least wait for him to finish what he's doing before bursting in on him."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Wendy glanced between the two of them, sensing that there was something more to that warning. "What…?"

Lahar gave a sigh. "Just something that happened a few weeks ago. You know how Siegrain has been avoiding us – well, avoiding everyone really – for a while? Well, Matthias got fed up of it. He stormed into the room, slammed him against the wall, and refused to let go until he promised to go out drinking with him that weekend."

"What happened?"

"He threw me out of the window," Matthias told her cheerfully. "We were five floors up. It hurt. Worth it, though. It was the first time I'd seen him smile in a long time."

As an approving grin stole across Wendy's face, Lahar hastened to add, "Of course, what this idiot isn't telling you is that Siegrain had been in a meeting with the Council at the time. Both of them were suspended for a week, _and_ they had to pay the repair costs for the window."

"A small price to pay," his brother replied, with a dismissive shrug. "Or, it should have been, anyway."

"Why?" Wendy inquired.

He swung the medallion pensively back and forth. "Because I really thought I'd managed to get through to him, but then, that weekend, he never showed up. No one even knew where he was that week, while we were suspended. I went to his house, but the old lady who lives in the flat below him said she hadn't seen him for ages. Apparently it was normal for him not to come home for several days in a row. She figured he'd been sleeping at the office, but he definitely wasn't in the Council Headquarters; I searched that place from top to bottom. When I next ran into him in the Archives, he acted like none of it had ever happened. And I'd like to say that it was an isolated instant, but really, that's been the story of the past few months…"

Then, as if aware that he was drifting off into an uncharacteristic despair, he gave a sudden grin. "Still, I'm not giving up on him just yet. I actually have an excuse to talk to him this time; there's no way he can get out of this one. He's going to have to sit and chat to me until we've worked out what this creepy old thing does, whether he likes it or not." He tossed the medallion up into the air and caught it deftly between two fingers. "Thanks again for your help, Wendy. I'll see you round."

With that, he waved in farewell and began walking off in the direction of the offices.

"I know I've said this before, Wendy," Lahar remarked, "But that's one amazing ability with magic you have there."

"Well… I don't think I told him anything he didn't already know…"

"Maybe not this time, but imagine what you'll be able to do once you're as experienced a mage as Siegrain or my brother. And besides, if not for you, we'd probably still be searching for the first R-System, rather than being in the process of tracking down the fifth."

"I'm just glad I could help." And the wonderful thing about her was that she meant every word.

"Actually, Wendy, that reminds me. There is something I've been wondering about that, if you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind. What is it?"

"How is it that you can find the R-Systems?"

"I can sense them. Siegrain's better at identifying them, but he has to get closer than I do. They all have pretty distinctive magic, and usually a lot of it, so they're easy for me to spot, even from far away."

He struggled to find the words to frame the question in his mind. "But how do you know what the R-System magic does?"

She blinked at him, not really following his line of questioning but wanting to answer to the best of her ability nonetheless. "I don't. I don't even know what the R-Systems are supposed to do, and I've been inside two of them. I just look for the signals. Siegrain's in charge of the rest."

"But…" He thought back to their second meeting within the Council Headquarters, when she had come running into the arena to announce the discovery of the very first R-System. "That day, Wendy, when you came to tell Siegrain that you had found the first one – do you remember? You had sensed its magic out near the ancient ruins, but you couldn't possibly have recognized it as R-System magic, since you hadn't seen any of them before. So how did you know to come and tell Siegrain about it?"

"Because it was the same magic that the Tower of Heaven had," she shrugged.

Just for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. "The Tower of Heaven… is an R-System?"

Wendy's eyes widened then, as if she was only just realizing the implications of what she had said. She clapped both hands to her mouth in horror. "I shouldn't have told you that!" she exclaimed. Her voice was so muffled that Lahar could hardly make out the words, but their meaning could easily be inferred from her frightened actions.

"Wendy…"

"Now he's going to be really angry with me…" she whimpered.

"Who is?" he asked, as gently as he could. She had clearly resolved not to answer, but with that girl, it was never too difficult to guess. "Siegrain?"

She gave a short, tight nod of her head.

"The Tower of Heaven is an R-System, _and Siegrain knows?"_ Lahar repeated to himself. "He's intentionally keeping it from the Council?"

"Please," Wendy burst out. "He's going to be so mad… I wasn't supposed to tell anyone…" Her anxious eyes implored him; he felt a rush of guilt, as if he were the one who was keeping potentially deadly secrets from the authorities. "It's just… he's only doing it because… if the Council attack the Tower of Heaven, he'll lose any chance he has of saving Jellal…"

He gave a sigh. "I understand, Wendy. Really, I do. I'm sure you're right, and he's doing it for a perfectly good reason."

She still looked uncertain. He hated seeing her like this. After an entire day of working so hard, didn't she deserve to be happy? He added, "I won't tell the Council, or Siegrain, so you're not going to get into trouble. Okay?"

"Okay…"

Doing his best to push it out of his mind for the time being, he gave what he hoped looked like a normal, reassuring smile. At least he knew one thing that would be able to cheer her up. "But anyway, Wendy, isn't there something you should be doing?" he prompted, and received a sort of adorable confused noise in response. "You worked so hard to earn that money today, and if you're not careful, the shops in town will shut before you get the chance to buy anything."

"Oh!" She jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair in the process.

Trying not to laugh, he helped her pick it up as he asked, "Have you got any idea what you're going to buy for him yet?"

"I've been thinking," she told him sincerely. "I learnt something today. I think that things have more meaning if you work hard for them. And you and Matthias have both been trying hard to reach Siegrain, so I want to do the same. I'm not giving up yet either. So, yes. I've had an idea."

Her words probably made sense to someone out there, but by all accounts even Siegrain – the most fluent of all of them in whatever metaphorical language Wendy drifted off into on occasion – still struggled to understand her at times. There was a resolve in her eyes, though; one he knew well. "Alright, then. Good luck. Oh, and Wendy!" He called out to her as she began running for the main entrance of the compound, Carla flying at her shoulder. "Come back and visit soon, okay?"

"Okay!"

There was a smile on his face as Lahar watched her go, but as she disappeared from view, that smile slowly faded. His thoughts turned once again to the truth he had just stumbled upon. The Tower of Heaven was an R-System, and Siegrain knew about it. No, it was more than that - he had known back before the Council's failed attack on the Tower, and when Councillor Melchior had informed him that Jellal's cult wasn't dangerous to society and could be left alone, Siegrain had chosen to say nothing.

Matthias's words echoed unbidden through his mind: _those days when everything just turns out to be a misunderstanding, and you can go home and laugh about it with your friends_ … _they're the days we live for._

"This _is_ one of those days… isn't it?" he whispered.

And as the last of the winter's chill winds blew across the training ground, bringing the storm on the horizon inexorably closer, not even the joy that spending the afternoon with the pure-hearted, determined girl had brought him could dislodge the worry that had settled into his chest.

* * *

Lahar had promised not to tell Siegrain or the Council but there was someone he could speak to without breaking his word – someone who had always been there for him; someone who was, in their own way, dependable.

"Matthias, can I talk to you?"

He called out to him; a quiet voice that should have been lost somewhere within the distant shouts and the stomping of boots on cobblestones and the rising wind, yet the other picked up on it straight away. Matthias turned, unusually solemn creases around his eyes, immediately asking, "What's wrong?"

At any other time he might have teased his brother, but Matthias knew when to be serious. Lahar understood this, and was grateful for it, even if his gratitude manifested as the slightly sulky response of a child. "I never said anything was wrong…"

"But there is something, isn't there?" he continued gravely. "Something you can't tell anyone else about." They looked at each other. Lahar didn't give any visible indication that he was right, but he knew anyway. At an unspoken agreement they moved away from the grand Council building, walking side by side through the gardens.

They were a strange sight, those two. Though they were related by blood, anyone who did not already know that detail might have struggled to see the resemblance. Matthias was older, taller, bulkier – even without the leather armour he never seemed to take off – and he effortlessly emanated a commanding presence that his younger brother, despite technically outranking him, had never quite managed to pull off. His hair was untameable, in a way that the Knights' formal uniform code would never have permitted; his face was ruggedly handsome, an accurate representation of his experience as a Council mage, if making him look older and more authoritative than he actually was.

By contrast, Lahar was the Council's youngest Captain by a significant margin, and he had been mistaken for a trainee more than once even after reaching his new post. His face was clean-shaven, angular, almost effeminate, and framed by long hair, clearly cared for and pinned neatly so as to comply with official regulations. The uniform he wore, spotless and polished with pride, did nothing to mask his slim build. As would have been expected simply from their appearances, he was inferior to his brother in combat, with or without magic, and he had nothing like the track record or legendary ability which had earned Matthias his reputation – and yet he was the one whom the people they passed in the gardens greeted. His rank attested to his reliability in everything from matters of war to domestic affairs; to his more than competent leadership which could not be observed from his external appearance. Matthias was never without that knife at his back, yet his brother carried a weapon only when his duty called for it.

A stranger might have been forgiven for thinking them total opposites – the rebellious, cheerful, wild elder brother and the solemn, mature, law-abiding younger one. In that, they would have been naïve. More careful investigation might have revealed the flour coating the Knight's fingertips or the stray soapy bubble in his hair from where he had spent the day skipping out on his duties as a Captain in order to help a friend; or could have seen how the Council's assassin knew when to calm down, be serious, and listen to the one who had come to him for help.

Their cloaks billowed out behind them as they walked. One was tattered at the bottom, and covered in traces of dirt from where it had been half-heartedly cleaned, and the other was as pristine as the day it had been made – but when it came down to it, they were twin white cloaks, proudly bearing the crest of the Magic Council. Not so different after all.

When Lahar spoke, the words that he didn't know how to say all came out in a rush. "The Tower of Heaven is an R-System. Siegrain knows. He's deliberately keeping it from the Council."

Matthias didn't reply immediately, nor did he externally react at all to those words. Anyone spying on the two of them from a distance would have been forgiven for thinking his brother had merely made a comment on the bad weather. He was, after all, a professional.

When he did speak, his voice was measured; even. "How certain are you?"

"Not at all," came the honest reply, though that honesty could not account for his worried tone. "I have no proof. However, Wendy told me, by accident, and I have never known her to be wrong in matters like this."

Once again, the other was quiet for a long time. The only outward sign that he was troubled was the palm of his right hand resting on the hilt of his blade, and even then, Lahar might have been the only person in the world who knew him well enough to pick up on it. "What do you want to do about it?" Gentle; genuinely wanting to hear Lahar's opinion before giving his own.

"I… I wanted to ask if you'd go to the Tower of Heaven and find out if it's true."

Again, Matthias was silent. Emboldened by the fact that he hadn't been instantly shot down, Lahar pressed, "You're the only one who can do it. You know exactly what an R-System is like – you've been in enough of them with Siegrain. And if you use your ability, there's no danger, and no one has to get hurt. All you've got to do is go there, take a quick look around, and come back, just so we know exactly what we're dealing with here. I know the Council has forbidden us from attacking the Tower of Heaven, or taking up arms against Jellal, but that's the whole point: we're _not_ attacking Jellal, we're just trying to learn the truth. You can get in and out and no one has to know – not Jellal, nor Siegrain, nor the Council. Hopefully Wendy is mistaken, but if she isn't, and Siegrain really is keeping this from us… well, we need to know, don't we?"

Eventually, Matthias said, "I can't take missions from Captains. It's absolutely against protocol."

"I'm not asking you as a Captain, obviously." A little of Lahar's annoyance flashed into his tone at that; he bit it back with a sigh. He knew full well that his brother had no issue with doing things that were against protocol – he was pointing it out only for Lahar's benefit; to ensure that he knew the full weight of what it was he was asking. The Knight did. He wouldn't have said it otherwise. "I'm asking you as someone who wants something in return for having to put up with being related to you."

Matthias grinned a little at this, his usual mirth temporarily breaking through his sombre shell. "Of course I'll go, Lahar, of _course_ I will. I do, however, feel like I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't point out that the appropriate action for a Captain in your position is to report your suspicions to the Council, rather than completely illegally enlisting the help of someone like myself."

"I know that. But I don't want to go to the Council. The last thing I want to do is bring a formal accusation against Siegrain when I don't have any evidence – when I can't see the whole picture. And besides, even if it is true and Jellal is in control of an R-System… Siegrain is my friend. I want to believe he has a good reason for keeping it from us."

"There's every chance he's doing it to protect Jellal."

Lahar nodded. "Wendy said she believed it was because, in his own way, Siegrain is still trying to save his brother. He could be lying about the Tower in order to delay our raid on it, and thus buy more time to convince Jellal to abandon his course of action. I'm sure he knows what he's doing. I almost want to forget about the whole thing and trust that he'll tell us about the Tower when the time is right."

"Almost?"

"Well… there's a reason why we're destroying the R-Systems, isn't there? They're dangerous – not just to us or the Council, but to the entire world! If the Tower of Heaven is an R-System, then every day we turn a blind eye to it is another day it spends moving towards completion. We can't just overlook that. The cultists in charge of the systems need to be captured and imprisoned before they can hurt anyone else! I know Siegrain knows this – if the Tower of Heaven belonged to anyone else, he'd have ordered a raid on it months ago. If he is being blinded by his compassion for his brother, then it's our job, as his friends, to help him."

"I can't argue with that," Matthias agreed.

"So go to the Tower and find out if it really is an R-System or not. If it is… we can talk to Siegrain about it before we bring it to the Council. Once we know for sure, he won't be able to lie to us about it or pretend that Wendy is mistaken, and he'll have to tell us what's really going on. Is that acceptable?"

"Yeah. I'll do it."

"And don't-"

"Don't attack Jellal, I know, I know. Not sure I'd want to even if it turns out he does own an R-System, to be honest. They're twins, so in all likelihood, his power is comparable to Siegrain's, and I sure as hell wouldn't want him as my opponent in a fair fight. I'll be careful. In, out, and back to the Council before anyone even notices I've left."

Lahar looked like he was about to say something else, but he gave up, glancing gruffly to the side. "Thank you." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glitter of amusement in the other's gaze – one he immediately associated with the years of teasing in his memories. A little too quickly, he snapped, "What?"

"I wasn't going to say anything!"

"But you were thinking something."

"Well, yeah, but I don't see what-"

"What was it?"

He wouldn't be happy until he heard it, would he? Even if it was something he really didn't want to hear. "I was wondering if this is the first time you've ever asked me for anything."

Lahar blinked at his brother, an expression of confusion he appeared to have picked up from Wendy. "What? There must have been plenty of times when I-"

"Not trivial things. I mean things that really counted. When you were applying to the Rune Knights, or studying magic, or learning to fight, or going on your first mission, or even when you were made Captain at such a young age – at any point you could have asked me for advice, or to help, or to put in a good word for you with the Council or the other Captains, and you didn't, not once. You came this far on your own. Now you finally ask me, as an agent, to do something for you – and it's not for your own benefit at all; it's you trying to work out how best to help Siegrain. That's so you, Lahar. That's my little brother in a nutshell."

At some point during his little speech, Matthias had attempted to put his arm around his brother's shoulders, and much to Lahar's chagrin, he wasn't taking no for an answer. "I should have known you were going to use this as an excuse to tease me."

"Yes, you probably should have done," agreed the other, nodding nonchalantly. "But I do mean it. I am very proud of you. You know that, don't you?"

"Don't treat me like a child," came Lahar's predictable retort, feigning grumpiness as he fought his way free of that embrace with practised skill. "I outrank you, you know."

"But I'll always be the elder brother. Even if you end up as Chairman of the Magic Council, teasing you will always be my job."

Lahar turned away from him abruptly, folding his arms as he looked out over the gardens. "Just go, already. And come straight back."

"Alright, alright," Matthias grumbled, but even without turning round, his brother knew that he was fighting to suppress a grin. "I'll see you later."

"Don't do anything stupid," Lahar muttered, but when he glanced over his shoulder, Matthias was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Shamelessly throwing flags everywhere, because subtlety is overrated. It's a very short chapter this time, but I'm sure you can see why I want to end it here. I actually really enjoyed writing that last scene. I don't get much chance to develop the other characters when Jellal is around, so doing a couple of chapters without him has been pretty interesting for me. He'll be back next chapter, though. Oh boy, will he be back. Hehehehehehe. _

_Oh, and before I forget, I've got two weeks of Finals coming up soon, which will probably interfere with my uploading schedule. There will definitely be a chapter next week (I wouldn't leave it at a point like this!) but after that, chapters may appear on weird days or not at all. Worst case scenario, I might have to skip two weeks of updating entirely. But, essentially, if you don't hear from me, it's because I'm unavoidably busy, and weekly updates will resume once my exams are over. ~CS_


	22. Given Love or Given Hate

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Given Love or Given Hate-**

It had been a long day – so long, in fact, that by the time Siegrain left the Council Headquarters, his earlier encounter with Wendy outside the antique shop had been all but forgotten. Not that there was anything unusual in that. Every day had been a long one as a matter of course since he had thrown himself into finding the next R-System as a means of cutting down the time he had to spend around other people. He was, after all, attempting to do a whole department's worth of work on his own.

He was out even later than usual today, having had to deal with Matthias bringing some ancient necklace for him to examine. That was his own fault, really – though Byron was technically in charge of the Archives, it was no secret that everyone trusted him the most when it came to matters of forbidden or unusual magic, and that was certainly something he had wanted to capitalize on. Being responsible in all but name for confiscating and categorizing the objects of dark magic which came into the Council's possession was an incredible asset.

Matthias had stayed for longer than Siegrain felt had been strictly necessary, talking about nothing in particular in the way that people did. It had been a while since he had last held a casual conversation with anyone, and he had found to his surprise that he hadn't really minded it either, except that the delay meant the sun was already far below the horizon as he crossed the wide courtyard towards the main gate. Having spent most of the day locked in his office, he hadn't noticed the approaching storm, but he recognized the feeling as soon as he stepped outside. The sky was so dark that there was no distinction between the storm clouds and the night itself, but the wind was rising, and it tore at his clothes and hair in a way that he pretended to find annoying, but that he really felt must have looked dramatic. He was struck by the sudden urge to cast off the cumbersome cloak he had to wear around the Council and let it fly away in the wind.

At the gates, the Knights on duty nodded to him respectfully as he left. The street outside the main entrance to the Council Headquarters was as busy as usual. Tourists, so he had observed with the detachment of a biologist, did not seem to comply with the circadian cycle of ordinary working life, nor did their numbers wax and wane significantly with the seasons. If they weren't crowding the front of the grand building during the day, then they were struggling to catch a glimpse of it lit up by beautiful lacrima after nightfall, and no degree of inclement weather was enough to make them reschedule their sightseeing. Thus even though the nearby shops had long since closed for the night, the street was full of people, and as a result of this, he almost missed her.

Certainly he would never have spotted her with his eyes alone, but he was a mage, and an exceptional one at that; he was always passively receiving information from the magic of the world, even if he wasn't out in the middle of enemy territory. Amongst all the weak magical presences he could sense was one that was familiar enough to push its way into his conscious mind. Frowning, he latched onto that feeling and followed it across the street.

On a bench opposite the Council Headquarters, sheltered from the worst of the wind by the nearby buildings, a girl and her cat were sat waiting. Well, they had probably started out waiting, but Siegrain gathered from the fact that they were both asleep that they had been there for quite some time. Indeed, the two of them – the young girl left unsupervised in the city, with only the little cat snuggled up in her lap for company – were garnering several sympathetic looks from passers-by.

Looking down at the two of them, Siegrain let out a deep sigh. "Wendy…"

She stirred almost immediately, glancing blearily around the street. As soon as her eyes fell on him, a broad grin stretched across her face. "Siegrain!"

It was surprisingly difficult to maintain his stern expression when presented with such inexplicable joy. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you." As if it were obvious. Which it was, he supposed, although that didn't make it any more logical.

"I thought you'd gone home hours ago."

"We got distracted," came her perfectly honest response.

Another sigh. "Why does that not surprise me? Please tell me you haven't been sat here all day…"

"Of course not! We've been really busy! And oh, that reminds me! This is for you!"

"For me?"

Carla jumped to safety just in time as Wendy sprang eagerly to her feet. Only now did he notice the small paper bag she had been gripping tightly in her hand as she slept, which she now pushed towards him. Struck by a sudden feeling of déjà vu, he reached inside the bag with some trepidation – and he wasn't surprised in the slightest to find that the thing resting on his palm was a small figurine in the shape of a snail.

It was, however, about as different as possible from the souvenir she had bought him at the beach. That snail had been created from locally sourced shells and pebbles, found on the shorefront and shaped by an expert craftsman. This one appeared to have been assembled from the oddest assortment of household objects by… well, probably by the beaming girl stood in front of him.

The base was a cross-section of lemon, dried and clumsily preserved, that fit snugly into the palm of his hand. Atop that rested a shell, similar to that of the souvenir snail, but, since it lacked the natural lustre of the one found on the beach, Wendy had taken it upon herself to liven it up a bit with stripes of metallic gold and silver paint. The eyestalks were made out of thin metal wire, topped with a marble each, and then, because that wasn't quite exciting enough, a googly eye was stuck to each marble. The entire thing had been put together using industrial-strength glue, if the traces still stuck to Wendy's fingertips were any indication. Intentionally or otherwise, the errant silvery strands of dried glue made for a convincing slime trail. It was certainly a unique gift.

Wendy was explaining with her usual interminable cheeriness. "Since our shopping trip got cancelled earlier, I decided that I wanted to get you something for your flat anyway!"

"…So you made me a snail?"

"Ah! You noticed that I made it!" She seemed far too pleased by his observational skills.

"It would be difficult _not_ to notice, really," he muttered, but it was more to himself than to her, and fortunately she wasn't really listening anyway.

"I thought that the other snail I gave you was probably getting quite lonely, being on his own in that boring flat of yours. Master Roubaul told me that snails are socia-bubble creatures, you see-"

"Sociable?" Siegrain guessed.

She frowned at him for interrupting. "That's what I said. They like to eat with other snails, and so I decided to make you a snail to keep the other one company." His bemused reaction was clearly not quite what she had been hoping for, as her beaming smile dimmed a little. "You don't like it, do you?"

"No, I do like it," he told her, unknowingly repeating his words from the first time she had given him a gift. He meant every word that he said. "It's pretty. And you made it yourself, thinking of me. It's very kind of you to do that, Wendy. Thank you."

She gazed at him with shining eyes. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but had completely forgotten how to speak. Siegrain found himself wondering how one tiny human being could possibly contain so much happiness without exploding.

Carla gave a pointed cough, and when Wendy didn't appear to notice that, she gave her friend a nudge instead. "Wendy, the biscuits."

"Huh-? Oh, yeah!" Wendy fished around in the pockets of her dress, eventually pulling out a small gift-wrapped bag of shortbread biscuits. Most of them were in pieces from where she had been sitting on them, but the odd one or two looked salvageable. As Siegrain watched uncertainly, she pushed the bag into his other hand. "These are for you as well. Me and Carla made them. Oh, and Lahar helped a little bit. But mostly it was me."

She turned back to Carla with a satisfied grin on her face. "See, Carla? I told you I'd be able to make it through the whole afternoon without eating any of them!"

Unfortunately, her proclamation of victory was somewhat undermined by a hungry growl from her stomach. As Carla sighed, Wendy glanced at Siegrain with an embarrassed giggle. The coincidence might have been amusing, if it hadn't stirred within him an old yet familiar feeling of worry, for this girl who thought only of others and hadn't the first clue when it came to looking after herself. He had left her on her own in this city knowing full well she didn't have any money or means of getting by, and that meant he was at least in part to blame.

"Wendy," he asked, "If you've been in Era this entire time, does that mean you haven't eaten anything all day?"

"Lahar bought us crepes for lunch!"

"That's not really much of a meal, Wendy. Nothing since then?"

Cottoning on to the fact that he was really being serious, her next response was more subdued. "No…"

Siegrain glanced at Carla, who offered him an apologetic shrug, then down to the presents in his hands. Wendy was still waiting for him to say something – she wasn't expecting anything from him; she merely hoped he would explain his line of questioning. He gave another deep sigh, and the harsh look in his eyes, perhaps the product of several months of isolating himself from those around him, softened a little.

"Alright, then. Come back to my flat. I'll cook you something."

* * *

Night had well and truly fallen by the time they arrived back at Siegrain's flat. The three of them said their ritual hellos to Mrs Mollins on their way up the stairs – who commented on the fact that she hadn't seen Siegrain for a while and was glad he was well – and it was only on his second round of making excuses that she let them leave, and they finally made it to the safety of his home.

Wendy immediately pounced on the sofa with Carla, wriggling amongst the cushions and stretching out in contentment. She waited patiently as Siegrain sat his new snail on the windowsill next to the old one, angling them both with careful consideration so that it looked as though they were watching the street below together. He observed, "I think he looks happier already, don't you?" And he was rewarded with another fantastic smile.

"Right, then. You two wait here. I'll go and see what food I've got in the cupboards."

He ruffled her hair gently as he passed; she turned to watch him go. The living room, with its impressive bay window, was separated from the kitchen/dining area by a pair of glass interior doors, which he left open so that he could keep an eye on the girls as he did the cooking. Wendy knelt up on the cushions, peering curiously over the back of the sofa at him.

Siegrain glanced through the almost-bare cupboards, wishing he had been paying more attention to his recent day-to-day life. If he'd thought for a second that Wendy would be coming to visit, he'd definitely have got some proper food in, but something so mundane just hadn't occurred to him when he was so preoccupied with thoughts of the Tower. Cooking for a guest was so _ordinary_ that it felt completely alien to him, just like going antique shopping or having a conversation about nothing with Matthias. It took him a full thirty seconds of searching before he remembered that he kept the pans in the cupboard above the oven – yet the moment he held his two saucepans in his hand, he immediately recalled that the red-handled one heated up faster, as if he'd never stopped using them, and he placed that one atop the hob with a small smile.

"I hope you like pasta, Wendy, because it's all I've got," he said, somewhat apologetically.

"I like everything," she reassured him, in the cheerful tones of someone who had been protected from unpleasant food her entire life by a responsible chef.

"Good." He lit the gas hob, feeling the immediate warmth as the flames jumped to life. That sorted, he began rooting through the fridge, looking for anything that might still be edible.

He hadn't got very far when he was suddenly stopped by a pair of small arms thrown around his waist: Wendy, clinging tightly to as much of him as she could reach. Anyone else and his magic would have reacted aggressively to the sudden and unexpected violation of his personal space, but he trusted her implicitly, so his magic did too, and remained calm even as his conscious mind caught up. Twisting so that he could look down at her, he protested, "Hey, hey, what's this for all of a sudden, Wendy?"

She gazed up at him with those beautiful, adoring eyes, refusing to let go. "I was worried. Really worried. Because I hadn't seen you for ages, and then… when I saw you earlier, you seemed really conflicted. And I thought that maybe I was going to lose you… but now that you're here, I can see that I was just being silly. You're still my Siegrain." It seemed that she held him a little tighter at this. "And no matter what happens, you always will be, won't you?"

He gently extracted himself from her clumsy embrace, but it was only so that he could kneel down with her and pull her close to his chest, closing his eyes. "Yeah," he whispered, so quietly that only she could hear it. "I will always be your Siegrain."

She was silent for a moment; a feeling of peace within that warm, protective embrace. Then, just as quietly, and also a little bravely, she said, "If there's something troubling you, you should talk to someone about it. It might help."

"I can't," came his soft, anguished reply. "I can't tell you why not, Wendy, but I can't; I just can't…"

"But I want to help you!"

"You are helping, just by being here. Far more than you know."

"Okay. Then I'll stay with you, for as long as it takes!"

He automatically began to object to her inviting herself to stay in his house, just like she always used to do, but he stopped himself with a rueful smile. "You can stay for tonight, at least. I wouldn't feel comfortable with the two of you travelling back to Cait Shelter in the dark."

"Will that be alright?" Her sudden hesitance gave him pause. Concerned, he let go of her and stood up, in order to better determine the expression on her face. "Don't be mad," she added, somewhat shyly, "But Lahar told me you were having nightmares."

He felt a flash of anger – but in face of Wendy's overwhelming worry for him, it melted away almost immediately, manifesting as just another tired sigh. "Well, what does he know about anything?" he muttered, in a half-hearted attempt at sounding cross.

"I wondered if it was something my magic could help with."

He just shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, Wendy, but it's not the sort of thing that magic can heal."

"Oh. What is it that you see at night?"

"Just… memories. Of a bad time."

"Oh," she said, again. "I don't think there _is_ anything I can do about that. But I wish there was. Because I used to have these dreams too, where my mother disappeared and then Jellal abandoned me and I was all on my own, and I was in a really bad place and I didn't know what to do and then I ran away from home and met you… and it was because of you that all that stopped. Even when I was asleep, I knew I was never alone, because I had you, and that meant I didn't have to be afraid any more. So I really wish that I could do the same for you…"

"Wendy… look, you don't need to worry about me. I'll be fine. Trust me. You do, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

He took her smile as an indication that the matter was settled. With that over, he turned his attention back to chopping vegetables. "So," he began, as a means of making conversation. "You spent the afternoon with Lahar, then?"

"Yup!" As he had predicted, liveliness immediately jumped back into her voice with the change of topic; he smiled to himself as he half-listened to her story. "We had a really fun day doing work! It wasn't as fun as shopping with you would have been, but it was still-"

"Wait, Wendy, did you just say you've been doing work?"

"Yup! Like a guild mage! Me and Lahar and Carla did loads of jobs in order to earn money to buy the things I needed to make you the snail."

"What kind of jobs?" he inquired, genuinely curious, and more than a little concerned.

"All sorts! We watered the flowers, and then we washed some carriages, and then we helped out in the café kitchens – that's where we made the biscuits for you, by the way."

Siegrain nodded in understanding. "Ah, I see now." He had to hand it to Lahar. That man really was kind. He'd have to remember to thank him for looking after Wendy the next time he saw him.

"We were going to help out serving food in the café as well, but Matthias showed up and stopped us before we could. Which was a shame really, because we were _this_ close to getting Lahar to put on the maid outfit-"

Here she was interrupted by a sudden fit of spluttering. "You did _what?_ " Siegrain choked.

"Lahar in a maid outfit," she repeated, matter-of-factly. "For the café. Though he didn't wear it in the end."

He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know he was into that sort of thing. Now that will definitely be fun to bring up in the next Captains' briefing."

"…Ah. That reminds me. He did actually ask me not to tell you about that. Oops."

"It's a bit late for that," he remarked, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

"Ah, well." Her bashful look immediately became bright again as a thought occurred to her. "He knows your secret, and now you know his, so it's kind of fair, right?"

Siegrain froze. The knife he was using to slice the carrots stopped mid-swing.

It was not quite the good-humoured reaction Wendy had been hoping for. Tentatively, she repeated, "Right…?"

"Wendy," he said, and although there was no anger in his tone, the absence of his earlier joviality was conspicuous. "What do you mean, he knows my secret?"

"Well… I, umm, you know…"

Dissatisfied with her evasive response, he spun round to confront her. She took a step back from him, her eyes widening in sudden fear; he realized a moment too late that the knife was still in his hand. With a wordless growl, he set it back down on the counter behind him, but it did little to reassure the girl.

"Wendy," he repeated, as neutrally as possible, not realizing that the sudden coldness in his demeanour might have come across as worse than anger. "What did you tell Lahar?"

His magic was prickling: agitated; jumpy; hot underneath his skin. He knew he couldn't hide that from her, no matter how calm he pretended to be. She murmured, "You're going to be mad at me, aren't you?"

"Not if you tell me the truth," he said. His eyes bored into hers; she tried to shy away, but he stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder. "I won't be angry with you, Wendy, as long as you tell me exactly what you told Lahar."

"I…" She swallowed. "It was an accident… I didn't mean to… I just… accidentally said that the Tower of Heaven had the same magic as the R-Systems. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear!"

 _Betrayal._

 _This is betrayal._

White hot fury burst within him, making it impossible to think of anything else.

 _I trusted her. She made me a promise. And she betrayed me._

It was with a great effort that he managed to drag himself away from that line of thought. It wouldn't do for him to lose himself to anger right now.

"Siegrain…" she murmured, and he didn't notice the fear in her voice – fear that, for the first time since they had met, was directed towards him.

"Alright," he said calmly. "Thank you for telling me, Wendy."

But he didn't let go of her. Not yet.

"I think it'll be okay though." She tried to reassure him – as if he were the scared one! – with the bravest smile she could muster. "Because Lahar understands. He knows you're only trying to save Jellal. He'd do the same if Matthias was the one who needed help. I know he won't do anything to hurt you, or to hurt Jellal. If you just go and talk to him…"

She hadn't noticed he wasn't listening to a word she was saying.

 _What now?_

One reckless move here could cost him everything. He had to stay calm and think things through. He had to anticipate the moves his opponents would make, and take steps to counter them.

Given the information that the Tower of Heaven might be an R-System, what would Lahar do?

The answer was obvious. Lahar was a Knight Captain for whom upholding the law and obeying orders was the most important thing, so he would follow protocol and take that information straight to the Council.

Except that wasn't quite right. That was the image which strangers, upon meeting the Captain for the first time, usually got of him, but Siegrain had come to know him well during their time working together. The image in his mind was one of a Captain who was friendly with all the townsfolk; who always had the time to lend a helping hand; who had gone out of his way to cheer Wendy up that very afternoon. He was faithful to the Council, but he was also kind, and compassionate, far more so than most people knew.

His loyalty would tell him that the right thing to do would be to report the Tower to his superiors. His compassion, by contrast, would tell him to trust Siegrain – in case he had a good reason for possibly withholding that information from the Council; in case he was motivated by an innocent desire to protect his twin brother; in case Wendy's suspicions about the man that Lahar had come to trust, and who he wanted to continue trusting, were wrong.

So that was the real question he needed to ask: given that internal conflict, what would Lahar do?

And the answer again was obvious. Neither loyalty nor compassion would win in that situation. Lahar would need more information in order to come down one way or the other. He needed evidence.

He would turn to the one person he knew he could trust. He would send Matthias to the Tower.

And that meant…

 _Game over._

He had no memory of pushing Wendy away or of springing into action. He did not notice the shattering glass as he burst through the great bay window, nor the shards tracing bloody patterns along his skin, nor the people in the street below who cried out in terror as he shot towards the heavens as a streak of golden light. He certainly did not hear Wendy shouting to him: one last desperate attempt to stop him; to save him.

The Tower called to him, and he thought of nothing but going to its aid.

* * *

 _Game over._

That one thought flashed through his mind over and over again. He had known from the start that it would only take one mistake to break him, and this was it. His dangerous game was about to come to a brutal end.

There was only one thing in his favour – one reason why he had not yet given up entirely; why he was still streaking through the sky towards his destination, however hopeless the situation seemed. He would beat Matthias to the Tower. No matter which method of transportation the assassin used to get there, he was faster than all of them.

But what then? Could he hide the fact that the Tower was an R-System from Matthias? He almost laughed at the thought. He had been able to conceal that truth easily from a bunch of Rune Knights, none of whom knew the first thing about ancient magic. But concealing it from the man he himself had taught to detect R-Systems? Out of the question.

He tried to stay calm and keep working through his options. If he could stop Matthias from entering the Tower, he might still be able to escape this trap. He could confront him, as Jellal, the moment he set foot upon the Tower's tiny island, and drive him off. Sure, he would have to use his full power to do it, and then he'd have to explain how Jellal could use exactly the same magic as Siegrain – but he could always pass it off as being part of the whole twin thing; the Council had bought the rest of it. It was a fight he was fairly confident he could win-

 _I can't._

With that cold thought, the fear instantly flared up again – a fear which quickly grew to supersede all other thoughts in his mind. Because it wasn't as simple as that, was it? This was the assassin with the unbroken track record. The man with the perfect ability. When he was using that magic, he was untouchable. It wasn't just that he couldn't be defeated – he couldn't even be detected. He could enter the Tower, look round as much as he wanted, discover the truth, and leave no trace that he had even been there. It didn't matter that Matthias would probably lose to him in a fight when he could effortlessly ensure that there would _be_ no fight.

 _There is no way that I can get out of this. It's game over._

Or was it?

He knew Matthias better than anyone else alive, save perhaps for his family – knew not only the secrets and weaknesses of his magic, but also the personality of its wielder. If the assassin remained true to the task he had been given, and simply went in and out with his ability active – well, then and only then was it game over. But if Matthias decided to go beyond the realms of reconnaissance and attack Jellal, his ability would end, and he would become vulnerable.

 _The ability is perfect, but its wielder is not._

If Lahar had been the one with the power to not be detected, that was undoubtedly what would have happened: on such an incredibly important mission, he would have followed his instructions to the letter. The same was not true for Matthias. He was far more likely to act on his own initiative, regardless of what his orders were.

In other words, he could be provoked into leaving that invulnerable state.

 _How?_

What could make him angry enough to disobey his orders, disregard his common sense, and attempt to kill Jellal then and there?

The answer was laughingly obvious: the truth.

 _I'll show him everything. I'll make sure he understands the true extent to which I've been deceiving him all these years. I'll tell him exactly what I intend to do to this world, and how, by trusting me, he has helped me achieve it. I'll show him how much of a fool he has been all this time._

 _I will gamble everything._

 _And I will win._

After tonight, Matthias and Jellal would not both be able to exist in this world. One of them would have to die.

For the first time, emotions began to stir beneath the dispassionate coldness of his logic: terrifying excitement; savage euphoria. And as the storm finally broke upon Era, and the citizens scrambled for shelter from the lashing winds and pelting rain and vicious lightning, he flew through the heart of the storm with a dark glee burning in his chest; a desire finally set free from the shackles of pretence.

* * *

"He'll come back soon. I know he will."

That's what Wendy had promised Carla, and though her voice had been lacking its usual conviction, the thought of giving up on a friend was simply out of the question for her. They had drawn the curtains across the hole in the window and settled down to await his return.

And there they had waited, and waited, and waited, and still there was no sign of him when they fell asleep, curled up together on the sofa.

They awoke to the smell of smoke and an imminent sense of danger. In his sudden departure it had not occurred to Siegrain to switch off the hob, and neither Wendy nor Carla had noticed it was still on until the fire it started had spread from the pan to the curtains and then to the kitchen cupboards, and its quiet roaring had finally grown loud enough to wake them up. As they ran from the flames, and went to alert the authorities, it crept to the flats above and below, and started edging its way hungrily along the row of terraced houses. Not even the torrential rain could quench it; the rampaging storm only drove the inferno onwards.

In time the Rune Knights arrived, along with the fire department, and they finally managed to subdue the blaze. Thanks to fearless action on behalf of the two girls, especially Carla's willingness to fly up and rescue strangers from windows and Wendy's ability to heal any wounds sustained, there was not a single casualty from the fire.

The property damage, however, was immense. The entire row of flats had suffered damage; the building where Siegrain lived, where the fire had started, was nothing more than a burnt-out shell. Once the fire had reached the stuffy treasure trove of flammable collectables that had been Mrs Mollins's home, trying to salvage anything was a futile task. The elderly lady herself had been dragged from the flat kicking and screaming and clutching at her most prized possessions; they had been forced to subdue her with sleep magic to stop her from jumping back into the fire.

As for Siegrain's flat, well, there hadn't really been any personal belongings inside for the fire to destroy. Sure enough, not a single memento of the life he had lived there was recovered from the wreckage – least of all two little snails, which, for the briefest period of time, had sat in the window together and watched the world go by.

* * *

He has never known fear like this before, and never will he again.

It's the waiting that does it. Waiting, and not knowing. The blindness. Hiding in the shadows, his body pressed into the darkness, not knowing if he is about to die and waiting, waiting, waiting-

Images flash through his mind. He sees them whenever he closes his eyes, and more and more often he sees them even when he doesn't. He sees the leader of the cultists he fought in the first R-System. He sees her triumphant, her power unstoppable as she easily bests him in combat, and then he sees her bleeding to death, her throat torn open by a fatal blow she couldn't have seen coming. Taken out by one strike from a perfect assassin. A corpse on the ground, not even knowing how she had died.

No way of detecting her imminent death. No way of detecting his. Would he die instantly, or would there be a moment of helpless realization, like there was for her, as she understood she was dying a moment too late to do anything about it?

That same assassin might be standing behind him right now, and for all the immense power within him, there isn't a single thing he'd be able to do to stop him.

He can only hide and wait, not knowing if this breath will be his last, or this one, or this one.

This is his fear.

It is like a living thing inside him. He is hyperventilating. He knows this, but that doesn't make it any easier for him to stop; all he can do is try to make his sharp, shallow breathing as quiet as possible. He is shaking, and yet he hardly notices, for his body is entirely numb. He doesn't know if it will move or not at his command and he is too afraid to try unless it doesn't. The fear fills the room with spectres. He sees things that aren't there, shadows that have come for his life; he hears enemy footsteps in the palpitations of his own heart.

It is all new to him. At any other time his magic would have been there for him, banishing the cloying grasp of fear with its power, but he cannot risk bringing it so close; not when the magic radiating from his body would be yet another way in which the approaching assassin could detect him. He keeps it locked deep inside him. It coils tightly around his heart, constricting; sickeningly claustrophobic. In this time of terror, he has never been more vulnerable.

And he is scared. He is so, so scared.

He tries to tell himself that everything has been perfectly calculated up to this point. He knows this man. He is certain that he can't distinguish between his projection and his real body. He understands how he thinks, as well: he knows exactly what he should have his illusion say to provoke the other into attacking it.

Yet arguments that seemed so sound as he raced to the Tower now ring hollow in his mind. There is too much that can go wrong. What if the assassin remains calm after learning the truth? What if he goes straight to report to his brother; to the Council? Even worse, what if it is standard practice for him to sweep the room before going in for the kill? His hiding place is good, and it allows him to see most of the room without being observed, but it won't stand up to much scrutiny. What if he has already been discovered? What if the assassin is preparing to run him through with that knife right now?

What if, what if, what if-? The silence is filled with them.

He knows the other is in the Tower. He knows because this is his R-System and he is its Master.

That is the only thing he knows. Everything else is guesswork. From which direction did he enter the Tower? Which room is he in right now? What will catch his attention? How long will it take for him to get here, to the system's living heart, if indeed he comes at all?

His illusion paces that room with all the confidence he does not have. As Jellal, he gloats, laughs, boasts; talks to himself, to a communications lacrima, to the ghosts in the room, to his own madness; he tells those things everything and laughs about it, laughs about the weakness of the Council and the stupidity of those who trust him and the world that is ending right beneath their noses. As himself, he hides and shivers and tries not to make a sound and prays over and over and over _let it be enough, oh please, please, let it be enough…_

But he did not reach this point through prayer alone. He has come this far on his own merit, and it is always his power, his resolve, his own strength that carries him through, far beyond the point where an ordinary man would have broken. The same is true of this paralyzing hell. He acknowledges his terror, but he does not lose to it.

He does not lose.

Not to anyone.

It happens so suddenly. The room is empty save for him, his illusory double, and this mind-numbing fear, and then, just like when he had watched the cultist leader die in confusion, there is another figure there, pinning the fake Jellal with one hand and cutting open his throat with the other.

Matthias knows immediately that something is wrong.

Having never had anyone slice open his throat before, he had not known exactly how to replicate it with his illusion. Maybe the resistance of his skin to the knife is wrong. Maybe the blood isn't supposed to spurt out quite that ferociously. Maybe the body goes limp too quickly. Maybe there is just _something_ about this kill that feels different to the countless times he has done it before. Whatever the reason, Matthias understands at once that there is a deception.

That understanding is not enough to save him.

In that moment the fear vanishes, because he knows he has won. He commands of his magic, _come!_ And it does, faster and stronger than ever before. There is not even a moment of hesitation as he unleashes it upon his enemy, before he can turn or cry out or even realize what is happening.

It is difficult to kill with magic alone, certainly without damaging the Tower. And he doesn't want to kill him like this – from behind, in a surprise attack, giving him no time for regret or comprehension. He wants to look into the other's eyes as he dies. He wants him to know the true extent of his betrayal.

So it doesn't kill him, that power, though it is strong enough to rip a hole in space itself and more than sufficient to secure victory. Matthias collapses at his feet, the knife falling from his limp grasp. He kicks him, brutally; the assassin comes to a stop sprawled on the ground with the wall at his back, and doesn't move again.

He picks up the blade from where it has fallen. The hilt is still warm. There is blood on it, but the blood isn't real; as he lets go of the magic he was using to maintain the projection, it fades away to nothing. His defeated opponent does not stir as he strides towards him, and he wonders if he went too far.

"Look at me," he orders, and when that doesn't get a response, he grabs the other's hair and jerks his head upwards so that he has no choice but to obey. There is still a ghost of consciousness in those eyes. Good. This would be no fun otherwise.

Recognition. If Matthias previously held any doubt as to who his opponent was, as to whether Jellal or Siegrain or someone else entirely was about to kill him, then he does so no longer. It isn't anger that enters into his gaze at that moment; nor is it fear. His eyes open wide in bewilderment as he looks at his friend and doesn't understand.

"Siegrain… why…?"

 _Why?_

Isn't it obvious?

It is almost with anger that he bends down and drives the knife straight into Matthias's heart. The muscle shudders as it tries to constrict around the blade. His body convulses; he opens his mouth as if to speak again, only to cough up blood instead.

It is a fatal blow. Warm blood pours over his hand, washing away the cold sweat of fear. He pulls the knife free and lets it clatter to the ground. He does not blink because he does not want to miss a single moment as he watches his enemy writhe and finally die at his feet.

He feels nothing at first, and then there is warmth welling up from deep within him; the fierce ecstasy of triumph. Wild laughter bubbles up inside him and spills from his lips like blood. Just as he has never known such fear, so too has he never known such euphoria for overcoming it. He is victorious, he is unstoppable; he spins around, light-headed, laughing freely in mad exultation.

This is his awakening.

He stands and laughs in that blood-splattered room and knows with certainty that this is who he is supposed to be.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** NO NO NO JELLAL NO ~CS_


	23. Co-Conspirators

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Co-Conspirators-**

"I've told you enough times. It was an accident."

"An accident!" fumed the Chairman of the Magic Council. "As if it wasn't bad enough that you were responsible for the fire which destroyed an entire street of houses, you also had to go and leave a child unattended in your flat at the same time! She could have _died!_ That's not an accident, Siegrain – that's criminal negligence!"

Siegrain closed his eyes and sighed at the predictable response. "If it's criminal negligence, then hurry up and charge me already. Don't waste everyone's time with this show court."

"Siegrain!" Banging his fist down on the desk, the Chairman brought his temper under control with an effort. "You are a Wizard Saint. That makes you an emissary of the Council! Your actions reflect upon all of us here, and this level of irresponsibility cannot be tolerated!"

"What can I say? No one's perfect." As if to illustrate his point, he let the magical presence he was barely bothering to control fluctuate even more wildly, and he grinned inwardly at the ripple of apprehension that ran through the assembled Rune Knights in response. He had no intention of starting a fight – he had to keep up the pretence that they were all allies here, after all – but it wouldn't do any harm to remind them every once in a while just how fortunate they were that he was presently on their side.

"That's an understatement," growled the Chairman. "What do you have to say to your neighbours, who lost everything in the fire that you caused?"

"Good luck getting your insurance to pay out?" he hazarded.

"Siegrain!" he thundered, once again. "Is this all a joke to you?"

Well, _obviously_. Placing his elbows on the rim of the dock where he stood, he rested his chin on his hands and gazed up at the angry faces ranged against him, completely at ease. He was abruptly reminded of the first time he had stood in this witness box, staring down the same ten members of the Magic Council. That had been a show trial too – a mere formality to satisfy the letter of the law, because the Council had already decided that they were going to execute him for the crime of being an unrepentant dark mage. No one had been more surprised than he when he had got clean away with it.

This time round, things were very different. As a Wizard Saint, and one affiliated solely with the Council rather than a guild at that, they couldn't afford to actually charge him with any criminal offence, for in a situation like this it would reflect far worse on the Council than on him. The worst they could do was suspend him for a week or so, and with him so close to finding the next R-System, they'd never risk it. This whole setup – assembling the entire Council to act as the jury; filling the room with armed Knights, as if they'd actually be able to touch him if it came to a confrontation; doing their best to reprimand him and force some humility into him – it was all to cover the fact that the Council were utterly powerless to do anything to him.

It amused him no end. He was sorely tempted to see how far he could push the Chairman before he snapped. Perhaps he'd even be able to bait the old man into trying to imprison him.

"Of course not," he replied, calmly but not humbly. "But, as I said, it was an accident. These things happen. The best thing we can do in this situation is be glad that no one was hurt and move swiftly on."

"I think not." At the Chairman's cold response, Siegrain gave another internal sigh. "We are not _moving on_ until we have some answers. Why not enlighten us, Siegrain? Where exactly were you all the time that your street was burning to the ground?"

"I don't think that's any of your business. I can go where I like."

"It most certainly is our business! We have a right to know – as do the victims of your negligence. I'm sure we'd all be very interested to hear exactly what was so urgent that it required you to abandon your home and your guest in such a hurry, especially since you received no orders from us. So I'll ask you once again, Siegrain, and I will advise you to think very carefully before giving us another flippant response. Where were you last night?"

"He was with me."

A stir ran through the room at the unexpected interruption, but no one was more surprised than Siegrain, who glanced sharply over his shoulder. Ultear was stood in the doorway of the chamber. She was panting slightly, as if she had run to the hearing in order to make it in time. She wasn't supposed to be here and she knew it – her face was the perfect picture of innocence, meek yet determined; here to do what she knew to be right rather than what was proper. Siegrain's eyes narrowed.

Despite the magnitude of the anger in the room, all suddenly turned upon her, her voice was steady as she reiterated, "Siegrain was with me, in my house, all night."

After a moment of surprise, the Chairman laughed. "Is that so? Siegrain, you abandoned a child in your apartment and started a fire in order to spend the night with this woman?"

Caught off guard by the interruption, and seething with anger inside, Siegrain did not know how to react. Ultear, however, was completely in control of the situation. She turned calmly to Siegrain, and asked, with false anxiousness lining her voice, "You didn't tell them?"

"Evidently not," came his icy retort.

She nodded. "Thank you for trying to protect me, but I don't want you to get into any more trouble because of me. I'll tell the Council the truth."

Without giving him a chance to object, she turned to face the Magic Council. "As I'm sure you're all aware, over the past few months, myself, Councillor Melchior and a few others from the Treasury have been attempting to track down the so-called Black Syndicate, a group of businessmen with links to the underworld who deal in contraband magical artefacts. By tracing their financial records and suspicious purchases in the biggest forensic accountancy investigation of our decade, we're on the verge of amassing enough evidence to put the group's ringleaders behind bars."

Impatiently, the Chairman remarked, "We know all this. How is Melchior's investigation relevant to Siegrain's actions last night?"

"Because I was careless," said the young woman, with a touch of sadness. "In pursuing a line of inquiry, I asked one too many questions, and yesterday evening, two of the Syndicate's hitmen turned up at my door. I think they believed I was acting under a personal investigation rather than a Council one, or they would never have been so bold. When I refused to drop the investigation, they attempted to silence me through force. They were far too powerful for me; unable to get away, I panicked and called out to Siegrain through telepathy. He came running to my aid at once."

Another murmur ran through the room. At least half of the councillors were watching closely for Siegrain's reaction, but his expression had been carefully guarded since Ultear started her explanation; not a trace of his internal anger showed on his face.

She continued, "If he hadn't arrived when he did, I would be dead. I was afraid that more assassins would show up, so he agreed to stay with me for the entire night, just in case. That's what happened." Clasping her hands together, she bowed to the Council in a show of humility. "I deeply apologize if my rash actions have caused trouble for the Council."

"And what became of these… hitmen?" asked the Chairman.

The question was directed towards Siegrain; Ultear glanced at him, but could not risk answering for him, in case it seemed suspicious. She was clearly confident that he would play along. For a moment, he was sorely tempted to refuse, just to spite her. He didn't want her help, and he certainly didn't need it; the fact that she would dare to pull a stunt like this was insultingly presumptuous of her.

But as fun as it would be to expose her story as a complete fabrication, he knew that it would be foolish to turn down such a convenient escape route for the sake of a few minutes of satisfaction. He could endure it. Maintaining his deception around the Council had to take priority over all other concerns. The sooner he could get the Council to draw a line under the events of last night and move on, the better. It was probably best for him to be cleared of all suspicion by the time they realized one of their agents was missing.

So he dutifully answered, "Given the choice between pursuing them and ensuring that Ultear was alright, I chose the latter. Once the Council closes its trap on this Syndicate, I'm sure they'll show up again – provided their bosses don't punish them _too_ harshly for failing, of course."

The Chairman nodded, accepting the explanation. "Why did you not tell us this straight away? You should have reported this incident immediately, let alone at the start of this hearing!"

"Ultear begged me not to tell you," he said smugly, and he had to fight to keep a satisfied smirk off his face at the flash of annoyance that darted through the young woman's eyes. "I believe she was concerned that if word of the danger involved in her investigation reached you, you would call an end to it prematurely, and all the progress that has been made up to this point would come to nothing."

"Rest assured, we will do no such thing," the Chairman informed her. "We are all aware of how much work you and Melchior have put into finding the Black Syndicate."

Ultear gave another polite bow. "Thank you."

"And Siegrain…"

As the Chairman scrutinized him, Siegrain found himself wondering what the self-important old man had made of his unusual uncooperativeness at the beginning of the meeting. He imagined the Chairman was weighing up the risks of doing nothing, and hoping it was just a phase the young Wizard Saint was going through, against the likelihood of worsening the situation by officially punishing him for it. A year ago they would not have hesitated to reprimand him. He knew the Council did not yet comprehend the danger he posed to them – and would not for quite some time – but there was an inexplicable sense of unease in the room, enough to cast some uncertainty over their response to his little rebellious streak.

In the end, the Chairman did nothing. "Next time something like this happens, you are to report it to us immediately. Is that understood?"

"Of course." The implicit assumption being that in return for his agreement, the Council – as his employer – would protect him from the fallout from the fire he had caused. That suited him just fine.

"Very well. Dismissed!"

* * *

Just like the last time he had left that room after a sham of a hearing, Siegrain walked down the corridor with what appeared to be perfect calmness, yet inside he was furious. Annoyance lent a brisk snap to his steps; the bottom of his long white coat, unbuttoned, fluttered madly around his knees. Like before, he should have been happy that the matter was settled, and he was not.

What was Ultear playing at? How dare she presume that he needed help – and that he wanted it from her, even if he did? He didn't need anyone but himself. Last night had been proof of that. Not to mention the fact that she had ruined his game. Deceiving the Council was only fun when _he_ was the one doing it.

"Siegrain!"

She called out to him and an angry grimace crossed his face. As he had predicted, she had chased him out of the Council chamber and was even now running down the corridor after him. He could outrun her, but not subtly; with an audible growl at the restrictions that Council etiquette placed upon him, he had no choice but to let her catch up.

Before she could speak, he stated, "Don't expect me to thank you. I didn't ask for your help."

"No," Ultear acknowledged quietly. "But you did need it. You were antagonizing them with no thought for the consequences, and it will only cause problems if you let yourself get carried away."

He almost snapped at her; might have done something stupid then and there if not for his instincts kicking in at the last minute, reminding him that there were other people in the corridor than just the two of them. Stopping outside the door to his office – the one place outside the Tower where he was certain to have privacy – he pushed it open forcefully and glared at Ultear. "In. Now."

She obeyed without question. Following her inside, he slammed the door shut again, one hand resting on it and holding it closed to dissuade any thoughts she might have been entertaining of fleeing. Despite his obvious anger, she didn't look afraid. Meek, as usual, but not afraid.

That was careless of her. He knew she had no need to be afraid of him when he had it on good authority that she was a very powerful mage in her own right; his magic, which would normally have been sparking and roiling with his rage by now, was unusually subdued, perhaps aware that there was nothing to be gained from trying to intimidate her. Given the extent to which she had gone to conceal her power from everyone else in the Council, however, he would have expected her to at least feign fear when he acted like this. It was sloppy. He had thought her better at this game than that.

"What are you playing at?" he snarled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, a little too calmly.

"Drop the act," he snapped; cold, brusque, hostile. "Drop it _now_ , Ultear, or we are done. All of this: trying to get close to me, helping me out without being asked, pretending that you're some weak mage who needs protecting – explain yourself. Now."

She was silent for a long moment, as if considering how best to respond to his accusation. On the surface, her usual demure mask appeared solemn, and maybe even a little hurt; it was as difficult as always to guess at what she was really feeling underneath. "I want to help you."

He laughed. He couldn't help himself – especially not when he saw her start at the unexpected harshness of the sound. "I neither want nor need your help. What about that have you not understood over the past few months?" When she said nothing, he growled, "Alright, then let me ask you a different question. Why me?"

This was a question she was all too eager to answer. "Because you're not like the others. You were made a Wizard Saint at seventeen, and everyone knows it's only a matter of time before you become the youngest member of the Magic Council as well. It's common knowledge that you were a dark mage before you began working for the Council, and even now they bend the rules for you, letting you get away with learning and using as much forbidden magic as you like. And you _understand_ it. Magic. You're not like other mages – not in the Council, or in the legal guilds."

"So, what?" His laugh became a sneer. "I'm very good at what I do, so you thought you'd do your best to work your way into my favour?"

She closed her eyes. "It's not like that. I'll put it this way. I could go to the Council right now and tell them that the real reason why you weren't in your flat when the fire started was because you were at the Tower of Heaven."

"Oh?" That single lilting word was a dare. She recognized it, and glanced away shyly.

"I don't have any proof, of course. Even I can't be sure – I only saw you heading in that general direction, after all. Then again, you're hardly inconspicuous when you use your magic to fly like that, especially at night. If I put out requests for information, I'm sure I'd be able to piece together your complete route from eyewitness accounts across Fiore, and demonstrate to the Council exactly where you were last night."

And then, to his surprise, she laughed. "And what good would it do? All you'd have to do is say that you were there trying to convince this brother of yours to abandon his evil ways, and they'd fall over themselves in their haste to believe you. It's not just that they wouldn't suspect you, but they'd go as far as to argue on your behalf. You're his twin, they'd say, so he'd probably hold an audience with you even though anyone else from the Council would be destroyed before they could get close. It's completely understandable that you'd want to keep that meeting a secret. They wouldn't dare do a single thing to you, no matter what anyone said. You have the entire Council in the palm of your hand."

"…So if you already know there's no point in trying to threaten me, why are you doing it?"

"Please, don't misunderstand. That isn't my intention. It's laughable, isn't it? As you are now, you could get away with almost anything. You're such a vital asset for them that they'd do anything to keep you on their side."

Ultear gave another quiet laugh. She was clearly at ease now, leaning back against the desk. This was almost certainly closer to who she really was. Though internally he didn't let his guard down, he did allow his stance to relax slightly in response to her subconscious actions, playing along.

"The Magic Council is so pathetic," she continued. "It knows it has no power of its own. The councillors rule only through reputation; through the actions of those like you, undertaken in their name. They need your allegiance because alone their weaknesses are exposed. They reprimand you only in order to convince themselves that they can control you – to cling on to their vain illusions of power."

Emboldened by the fact that he hadn't jumped in to defend his employers, she continued, "They understand _nothing_. What gives them the right to decide what magic is forbidden and what is not? For centuries society has been held back by those who are scared of what they don't understand – who are so desperate to cling onto power that they will persecute anything that dares to be different; anything they perceive to be a threat to their order! They use technological advancements to sing the praises of the modern day, always brushing over the fact that mages in this age are barely scratching the surface of what was known four hundred years ago, in Zeref's world, where magic was free!

"Magic is not supposed to be bound. The more limitations we place upon it, the weaker it becomes; the more we move backwards in our understanding. We live in a society smothered by the fears of those in charge. Their selfish desire for some sense of control has brought about a world of stagnation – a world that was never meant to be!

"More and more mages are coming to understand this. Dark guilds are being created faster than even you can destroy them, because mages are realizing that the only way to move forward is to act outside the guidelines set down by the Council, and they're banding together to forge their own paths through the world. Even the legal guilds are becoming more rebellious, refusing to submit to the Council's authority. And you, the most powerful of the Council's mages, learn the magic you want to learn, rather than only using that which they have deemed acceptable!

"Laws. Restrictions. Magic that is permitted by the authorities, and magic that is not. Magic that is considered dark or forbidden or evil just because it was first understood by the one our paranoid historians have come to term the Black Mage. Lost Magic, which was pushed into obscurity by the folly of our ancestors. Magic useable only by certain mages, or certain people, in certain places – these labels are abhorrent, and those who seek to impose them are contemptible. They have no right to control magic, or those who use it, when they understand so little. Imagine what could be achieved in a world of true magic; of true freedom! You understand… don't you?"

Siegrain had listened, amused, throughout her entire impromptu speech. He had long since stopped being angry with her – this was turning out to be a far more interesting conversation that he had anticipated. "Oh, I understand perfectly," came his cool response. "You're an anarchist. And you're telling me all this because you're clearly under the impression that I have some sort of secret plan to destroy the Magic Council up my sleeve."

She gave a small smile. "No, nothing like that. I came to you because you're not like the others. You actually _understand_ magic. There's no way you could have been able to use Abyss Break like that otherwise."

"True. But, as you said yourself, I can get away with doing what I like, because the Council need me on their side. I couldn't care less what laws they want to enforce on other people. The rest of the world isn't my problem."

"I don't believe you," she said, simply. "I know you have no respect for the Council."

He couldn't help laughing at this. "On the contrary. I have a great deal of respect for the Council. They do not have the power to implement their laws by force, yet they've somehow managed to convince all the mages of this world that they do. The Wizard Saints, the Rune Knights, even Etherion – all those things in the hands of ten men and women who can barely use magic themselves. If the councillors themselves were assassinated, or disgraced, or otherwise forced to disband, Etherion would be neutralized; the Knights would fall apart; the Wizard Saints and the legal guilds wouldn't act until it was too late, and wouldn't be unified even when they did. And yet not even the dark guilds who are supposed to directly oppose the Council's rule have dared to try anything like that."

"You've certainly given that a lot of thought," Ultear remarked, with a not at all innocent smile.

He replied with equal ease; an equal lack of honesty. "It's my job to think about things like this, to ensure that I can stop them from happening. I am the Council's own Wizard Saint, after all. I have my own reasons for hunting dark mages, and I have much more freedom doing that as an agent of the Council than independently. The current arrangement suits me just fine."

"But nothing will ever _change_ like that." She closed her eyes and laughed bitterly. "The Council won't give up its power for anything, especially not an ideal they are too blind to understand and too fearful to embrace. And I came to realize that it isn't just the Council that enforces these rules – it's this whole hateful world, which has been bound by a juvenile misconception of right and wrong for four hundred years. If the true world, Zeref's world of magic with freedom at its very core, is ever going to be reached, the present world and all its fallacies must first be erased, along with those who seek to bind the world to its current, pathetic state for all eternity."

Once again, he had listened to her outburst patiently, giving her words the careful consideration they deserved. "Well," he said, at last. "Setting magic free, and overthrowing the government in the process. It's a nice argument. Not one I care much for, but it's nice. And it's probably the most truthful thing I've ever heard from you."

She gave him a curious glance. "What do you mean?"

Putting his hands in his pockets, he began to pace the length of the small office. "Ultear Milkovich," he began. "Born in Crocus Central Hospital to unremarkable parents; grew up in some equally unremarkable small village. Home-schooled until sixteen, before joining an elite college and graduating only two years later with a first-class accountancy qualification. Completed a coveted six-month internship with the Bank of Fiore, only to turn down their offer of a permanent role in favour of a junior position in the Magic Council's Treasury, to be promoted to Councillor Melchior's personal secretary within a few weeks. I don't know what's more remarkable – that the Council actually bought such a blatantly outrageous list of qualifications, or that you managed to bluff your way through a year of this job without them."

She opened her mouth as if to say something, before deciding better of it. Just as he had earlier, she would far rather hear what he had to say than ruin it by interrupting.

"Your story seems to check out, but that doesn't mean it's true – only that you're very, very careful." Now he turned to look directly at her. "I know none of it is real. Nothing, from before you came to work for the Magic Council – not even the names of your parents. Who are you really, Ultear?"

There was a moment of silence. Fortunately, he didn't seem to be expecting a reply. The pause was just for effect; he turned away once again, utterly calm, and added, "That's alright. I didn't think you'd tell me, so I did some research of my own." Negating the magical seal upon it with a touch of his fingers, he opened one of the drawers of his desk, flicked through the papers contained inside until he found what he was looking for, and tossed it down onto the desk beside her. He said nothing more. He just waited to hear her response.

"What is this?" she asked, giving the small dossier a cursory glance – which rapidly evolved into a look of wide-eyed shock. She only needed to see the insignia of the now-dissolved Bureau of Magical Development – a symbol she would never forget for as long as she lived – to know exactly what that innocuous plastic wallet contained. The photograph paper-clipped to the cover only confirmed it. The young, malnourished, bruised girl in the picture was a far cry from the confident woman she had become, but the sheer venom with which she was staring at the photographer was a feeling she knew well. "How did you find this?"

At long last, he had managed to get a genuine reaction out of her. There was a triumphant smile on his face, even as he gave an airy shrug. "The thing about being a Wizard Saint who works directly for the Council is that no one knows what level of security clearance I'm supposed to have, not even me. People tend to give me what I want when I ask for it nicely. They seem to realize it's a lot safer to err in my favour than the alternative."

"Still," she murmured, running her fingers across the small file. "This shouldn't exist. Why weren't all records of that place destroyed?"

"Well, if there's one thing that the Magic Council's good at, it's being careless. So careless as to not even notice what the research bodies that they were supposed to be regulating were really getting up to." He shrugged again, as if it were of no concern to him. "I know a man who used to work at the Bureau. Once I'd already traced you back that far, he was more than happy to exchange your file in return for the knowledge that his sole successful test subject was still alive. I didn't tell him where you were – I don't like him _that_ much – but I do believe that news made his day, as a scientist. He thought that everything had ended in failure; that you'd died when you brought his facility down around him.

"And to be honest, I can't blame him. I haven't found a single thing regarding what you've been up to between destroying the research facility and appearing, just over a year ago, at the Treasury of all places; with a bagful of fake credentials and a work ethic that could have let you accomplish everything you claimed to have done in half the time, if you'd cared to apply your talents in such a mundane field." She pursed her lips and made no move to explain anything; he wasn't remotely surprised by her lack of cooperation. "And that lack of information tells me a great deal in its own right. But of far more interest to me than what you have done is what you are doing right now."

Tapping the file thoughtfully, he expanded, "If these numbers are to be believed, you're probably the most powerful mage I have ever met. Which, really, begs the question: why on earth is such an insanely gifted mage playing at a desk job in the government, Ultear, daughter of Ur?"

"I…"

He seemed more than happy to continue his speculation rather than wait for an answer she was reluctant to give. "When I first discovered all this, I thought you were trying to infiltrate the Council in an attempt to seek revenge against the authorities that had, knowingly or otherwise, sanctioned all that suffering you had to go through as a child. But, I don't know. Revenge is a powerful motivator, but it just seems too shallow for someone like you. Not to mention, someone of your abilities would be able to do far more damage by striking at them from the outside than you'll ever be able to accomplish from inside the Treasury.

"So, it's not just mindless destruction that you're after, is it? Information, perhaps? Resources? Something to turn against them? I've known about your past for a while now, but I genuinely couldn't work out what you were after, until your little speech just now. You don't just want to destroy the current councillors, or even to destroy the institution that is the Magic Council. You want to destroy the whole world, as it currently stands." He shook his head, almost in disbelief. "As bizarre as it sounds, I find myself inclined to believe you. This world that you speak of, where magic is free – it's not just an ideological goal for you, is it? It's not an unreachable ideal, providing some vague justification to motivate social change, but something you truly want to realize within this world. You seek something that can only be found there, don't you?"

"I do," she whispered. "It is only in such a world that my magic can be perfected, and I can truly be free."

"But I still don't understand, Ultear. How, exactly, is being here helping you to achieve this goal?"

She smiled. "Because of you."

"Oh?"

"Why you, you asked me. Why are you the one, out of all the powerful mages I have ever met, that I am drawn to? Because it has to be you. Abyss Break – when I saw it, I knew. To you, there is no distinction between what is forbidden and what is not; there is simply magic, and the power it offers to those with the skill and the ambition to reach for it. You understand it, and perhaps because of that, you hold the Council and its laws in contempt. I sought someone who could change the world, and at the heart of the hated Council itself, I found you. That's why I came to work for the Council."

"Well, I'm flattered," he laughed. "You know, when you started trying to get close to me, I would never have imagined it was because you had some crazy idea that one day you'd be able to stand at my side and watch the world burn."

Despite knowing that he was mocking her, she shook her head shyly, trying to impress her earnest sentiment upon him. "It's not like that. I just want to see the world that you would create. Zeref is dead, but there is no one better suited to be his rightful successor than you. The world of true freedom, ruled over by the power of the Black Mage himself… I know that you can make it come to pass."

 _A world of true freedom._ Words that echoed the promise given to him on that fateful day when he had seized control of the Tower for himself. A world as different as could be from the reality in which they lived.

And it was a truly hateful reality. Theirs was a society which made slaves of its children; where those who are born without the power to defend themselves would always be trodden upon by others. He knew better than anyone the cruelty of this world: the darkness, the selfishness, and the mocking imitation of freedom it offered them; the sadism of a world that granted innocence and wonder and hope to everything born within it, just so that it could watch in glee as those fantasies shattered against the cold harshness of existence.

That was the reality from which they would never be free.

Did he agree with what she was saying about magic? He certainly didn't object to it, but neither was it enough of a reason to start a revolution, as far as he was concerned. It was at most more evidence for what he already knew; another sin for which he would judge and punish the world once the Tower was complete. He did not have any particular hatred towards the Council; overthrowing them was simply a necessary step along the path to changing the world. Of course, he still thought they were foolish, and the way that they trusted him and begged for his loyalty was a source of endless amusement in his daily life, but he was merely using them to obtain Etherion. They would all become irrelevant once he had activated the Tower.

Was it important to Ultear, though? Strange as it sounded, he found himself believing that it was. She lied about many things, but he didn't think she was lying about wanting to destroy the Council and reach this alleged world where magic was free. It matched with what little he knew of her – with all the various observations he had made over the past few months of unwillingly being the centre of her attention. Besides, he knew the information he had about her childhood was correct. She was here under false pretences, just like he was, and he had noted as early as their first meeting that they were alike. Perhaps that made it easier for him to believe she could be driven to such great lengths by her desire to change the world, because he was the same.

There was a possibility that this was a trap. If the Council had grown suspicious of him, they might have asked Ultear to get close to him in order to find out what his true intentions were. Despite his wary nature, though, he found that hard to believe. He hadn't put a foot out of line while doing jobs for the Council since she had started working with him, and he doubted the Council would have the patience for the kind of long game that he was playing. Not to mention, he knew they trusted him, and he had done nothing outrageous enough to jeopardize that trust.

If Ultear had come up with that lie in the hearing at the request of the Council, perhaps to see if he would play along with it and confirm their suspicions, he could always argue that he had gone along with it despite knowing it was a lie in order to find out why Ultear had offered it to him in the first place. Besides, she had deliberately given him information which could lead to her facing a criminal conviction, while allowing him to say nothing incriminating in return. If she really was baiting him, the same excuse would apply – he knew she was an enemy of the Council, so had pretended to agree with her in order to find out what she was really after and if she had any accomplices. His standing as a Wizard Saint could only work in his favour. Plus, over the past few months, she had gone out of her way to show him how useful she could be to him, and now she was gambling everything by revealing her desires in order to show him that he could trust her. All the evidence was suggesting that she really did want to work with him.

Even so, for her to approach him so openly now was nothing short of audacious. After months of timidly hanging around him and hiding her true intentions, she was all of a sudden very certain that he wouldn't turn her in. Her presumption that she knew him well enough to make that call angered him. He did not want her help – he needed no one but himself. For that arrogance alone, he was tempted to report her to the Council and ensure that she was properly punished. That would serve her right.

 _If there's something troubling you, you should talk to someone about it. It might help._

Someone had said that to him recently, though he couldn't think for the life of him who it might have been. That voice from his memory made a fair point, though. Wouldn't it be good to have an ally? Someone who knew who he really was; who was sympathetic to what he was planning and could help cover for him around the Council? After all, merely obtaining a seat on the Magic Council wasn't his ultimate goal. As a councillor, he could propose that Etherion be used, but it still required a vote in order to launch, and while he was confident he would be able to trick the Council into firing it, it wouldn't hurt to have someone else close to the Council to back him up.

And, more than that, the thought of having someone around for whom he did not have to wear the frustrating persona of faithful Wizard Saint Siegrain and could just be Jellal, with no need to pretend that he wasn't a man capable of murdering a colleague without remorse, appealed to him. She believed in him; she trusted him; their goals weren't too dissimilar, certainly not their immediate ones; and she seemed to genuinely think that he was the key to bringing about this new world she sought – and that meant that he could use her.

He didn't have to tell her everything. It just had to be enough to convince her to follow him – and to test her trustworthiness. If she proved to be loyal, he could tell her as much about the Tower as he wanted; until that point, he would simply be careful not to give her anything solid that could be used against him. If and when he could confide in her fully, she would be so far in it herself that she couldn't possibly reveal his deception to the Council without bringing herself down too.

He could do this. After the events of the previous night, he had absolute confidence in himself. Taking on an ally he could not fully trust would be dangerous, but that only made it all the more exciting. This would not be merely a gamble on his part: it was a challenge to himself, and the thought of it filled him with glee. Manipulating those who trusted him – be it Erza, his former friends in the Tower, the Council, or even Ultear – was something he excelled at, and more importantly, it was something he took great pleasure in.

Neutrally, without giving away anything that he was thinking, he said to her, "You know, I can't decide whether it's very brave or very stupid of you to announce your intention to overthrow the Magic Council to their own Wizard Saint."

Just for a moment, he thought he saw her eyes widen in alarm, but when she spoke, she sounded more regretful than scared. "Are you going to report me to the Council? If I really have misjudged you that badly, then I suppose it is only right." A sad, secretive smile. "If you're not the person I've been looking for, Siegrain, then I am certain he does not exist. Prison would be a fitting place for me to end my search."

A lament; a concession. If those words were all that she had spoken to him, he would not have believed her – that a woman he knew to be crafty and dangerous would give in and accept defeat so readily would have been difficult to accept. But his sharp eyes caught the slightest shift in her stance as she readied herself either to fight or flee, and his alert senses picked up on the faint increase in unfamiliar magic glimmering from her body. He knew in that moment that if he turned her down, either he would have to defeat her or he would never see her again. That was all the confirmation he needed to know that he was right.

So he made no move to draw on his own magic, nor to block her exit out the window if she chose to run. Instead, he just observed, "You're a very interesting person, Ultear. I can't say I dislike that."

A small frown played across her face as she tried to work out whether or not he was serious. "Then you…"

"Why not?" He offered her his hand and she shook it with a triumphant smile. "Let's change the world together, Ultear."

* * *

"Hello, mother."

It was in a somewhat subdued voice that Melchior greeted his mother. Perhaps it could even have been described as reluctant. It wasn't entirely unexpected from a son towards his overbearing mother – it was a tone that invoked images of a young schoolboy trying to wriggle out of an unwanted embrace and rush off to join his friends before she could give him a goodbye kiss; of a busy young man who had only dropped by during his short lunch break to find out how she was getting on, not to hear all the gossip of the entire street.

Certainly, there was no immediate reprimand from the elderly lady for his unfriendliness. She was clearly used to it, if indeed she consciously noticed it at all. Her smile was just as bright as ever. "Ah, good afternoon, Melchior, dear. I was wondering when you'd next drop by to visit me. A month is far too long to go without seeing my dear boy, especially when I live only a few minutes' walk from the Council Headquarters. Has work been keeping you busy?"

The councillor stared at her for a long moment, as if he hadn't realized she had finished talking. His response was equally distant. "Yeah… something like that." Though his body was completely still, his hand twitched involuntarily at his side.

"Good, good. I can't have my only son lazing about when the world needs him. So, how about a cup of tea?"

"I'll get the tea," the councillor overrode her immediately, glancing around for a vending machine.

"Nonsense," she countered, just as briskly. "I can't have you making tea for me in my own home. I'll put the kettle on."

With that bold declaration, she pushed the covers back, swung her legs out of the bed, and stood up. Even at her full height she barely came up to her son's shoulder, though she moved with the confidence of someone who had failed to receive the memo saying that elderly equated to decrepit. She hummed to herself as she turned her attention to the array of machines beside the bed: the screens, the dials, the nameless drugs in clear drip bags, the regular heartbeat bleeping of the monitor. Unsatisfied by what she was seeing, she glanced around until her gaze fell upon the handle of a bedpan, sticking out from underneath the bed. She grabbed it triumphantly. "Excuse me for a minute, while I go and fetch some water."

"Mother, that's not the kettle." Quietly, and without emotion.

"Nonsense, nonsense. Do you think I've lived here for twenty years and still don't know where I keep my own kettle?"

"Mother…"

The councillor watched with a hazy detachment as the old lady began pressing buttons on the machine beside her bed. Fortunately, one of the nurses in the room noticed her activities, and he immediately dashed over to try and convince her to get back into the bed. A cloudy look entered her eyes for a moment as she looked at him, as if trying to understand what he was doing there, and then a false brightness returned to her visage. "Ah, you must be the man here to repair the stove! Very prompt service. Excellent." To Melchior, she added, "I'm sorry, my dear, but we may have to pass on the tea for today. There's nothing we can do until the stove has been repaired."

She sat back down on the bed, and when Melchior still didn't move, she frowned at him. "Are you going to stand there all day? Sit down, sit down."

Numbly, he did so. The worn-out chair seemed designed to be deliberately uncomfortable, as if in order to cut down the length of time that friends of patients would spend visiting and getting in the nurses' way. He dragged it closer to her bed, and still he said nothing.

"You're being awfully quiet today, dear."

"Sorry. I have a lot on my mind, that's all."

"Ah, I know what will cheer you up." The old lady reached across to the bedside table and then held her hand out to her son, empty palm turned towards the ceiling. "I found this in a shop the other day. It's the latest figurine in the new Travelling Bear collection. Pretty, isn't it? It doesn't quite have the charm of the original run, but that was only to be expected, once the head of the company retired. Say, do you remember the first one of these I bought? It was a grey teddy bear, just like this one, with skiing goggles on his head and wearing a fur coat. You picked it out for me. How old were you then? About six years old, I think. You and me and father in that chalet in the mountains, do you remember?"

"No, I don't remember."

"That's understandable. It was a long time ago. I always remember that trip, because I've got that bear that you chose as a souvenir to remind me. Just the fact that you thought it was cute was enough to begin my collection of the Travelling Bear figurines. As I said, I think the newest set lacks a lot of the character that made the original run so special, but this is still a nice little piece, don't you think?"

Melchior looked from her empty hand to her satisfied smile and back to her hand. "Mother, there's nothing there."

"What do you mean, nothing there? Oh, you hate it so much you're going to pretend you can't see it? That's awfully childish of you, dear. I know it's not as nice as the one you chose for me, but there's no need for you to-"

"No, mother, listen to me. There's nothing there. Look."

He took her outstretched hand in her own. It was a gentle action, certainly not deserving of the sudden shiver which ran through her, or the way she looked at him as if he were a total stranger. "Give it back. Give it back!"

Startled by her shriek, he let go of her abruptly, and a semblance of normality returned to her gaze. "Thank you. Now, to decide where it's going to go in my collection…" Her gaze drifted from his, racing across the hospital walls as she tried to find a place for it on cluttered shelves that weren't there.

Steady, flat, and as emotionless as possible. "Mother, you don't have a collection any more. There was a fire. Your house and everything in it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed? Don't be silly, dear." She swept a hand round the hospital ward, indicating the beds, the bleeping machines, the drips, and the nurse, and seeing something else entirely. "How can my house have been destroyed if we're sat in it right now?"

"We're in the hospital, mother," he tried, knowing there was no use in it. "Can't you see that? This isn't your house. A fire started in Siegrain's flat upstairs and the fire department arrived too late to save any of your-"

She wasn't listening. "Ah, yes, I wonder how Siegrain is getting on. I haven't seen much of him recently. He comes home less and less these days. I imagine that's your fault, for working the poor boy too hard. Do tell him to drop by next time you see him. I was hoping to show him some of my new collection…"

She chatted away obliviously, not noticing even as Melchior slammed his fist into the wall.

That man. This was _his_ fault.

Oh, Melchior had tried to be calm. At first, he had been prepared to accept that it might have been an accident. Siegrain's negligence may have led to the destruction of his mother's house and belongings, but these things happened, after all. But then there had been the hearing… and far from being apologetic, Siegrain had been utterly nonchalant – mocking, even; displaying a total and intentional absence of remorse and sympathy. Watching that man laugh at them from the witness box, Melchior had somehow managed to stay calm; to remain still and prevent himself from trying to murder him then and there.

But now, meeting his mother for the first time since the accident, and seeing the true consequences of those actions, how was he supposed to just accept this?

"Why didn't you listen to me?" he burst out, causing his mother to stare at him in surprise. "If you'd just taken my advice – if you'd moved out and kept away from that man the moment he arrived, like I told you to, none of this would have happened! I knew he was only going to cause trouble, for you, for me-! Why couldn't you just have listened to me?"

"I've told you enough times, dear," she lectured him crossly. "I'm not moving house just because someone you don't like has moved in above me. I've lived in this flat for twenty years, and I'll live here for twenty more. Besides, Siegrain is a charming young man-"

"He's evil!" Melchior snapped. "Can't you even see what he has done to you?"

"You're being awfully rude, dear." Disapproval was etched onto her wrinkled face. He glanced from her to the nurse, who hovered uncertainly nearby, the same combination of apology and awkwardness on his face as when he had informed Melchior about his mother's condition; about how there was nothing wrong with her physically but the shock of losing everything at once had broken something within her mind; about how they were trying all sorts of new drugs on her but nothing was having much effect; about how not even magic could cure madness…

Melchior stood up suddenly. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

And heedless to his mother's concerned shouts, he strode out of the hospital ward, fists clenched at his side and only one thought in his mind: _that man is going to pay for what he's done._

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Well, it's a day late, but given that I wasn't expecting to get a chapter done at all this week, I still consider it a bonus. Even if it was mainly motivated by me just wanting to get this stupid chapter over and done with. It was such a pain - partly because that last scene was horrendous to write, but mostly because trying to get Ultear and Jellal together was just so difficult. In an ideal world, he would have approached her, as I am sure would have happened in some way in canon, but that just isn't going to happen here. Jellal has spent the past few months of this timeline pushing away the only people who could help him - that attitude is not going to suddenly change just because he's gone evil. Besides, he's still high on his victory from last night. Right now, he is more arrogant and more certain of his own power than he has ever been. The last thing he is going to do is ask someone for help in his evil plan._

 _So Ultear had to approach him, and what was more, she had to do it now, while he was vulnerable; to ensure he stays 'evil' (for want of a better phrase) without giving him a chance to think over and possibly regret his actions. How she was going to achieve that was another matter entirely, and it was made even trickier by the fact that they're both arguing through personas. It should be easy for Ultear to convince Jellal to join her, given that she's the reason why he wants to use the Tower in the first place, but if she approaches 'Jellal' directly, he's going to get suspicious. She has to argue as though she's genuinely trying to convince 'Siegrain' to join her cause, while choosing words that seem innocent but will get through strongly to Jellal. Gaaah._

 _Anyway, I hope I managed to make it at least a bit convincing. At least it's done now, and I can get on with the fun stuff. Fun for me, that is. Not for my characters. It may be a coincidence that the most depressing part of the story has fallen at the same time as my Finals, but it's certainly convenient - if I have to suffer right now, so do they... ~CS_


	24. The Lonely Knight's Patrol

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-The Lonely Knight's Patrol-**

It was with no small amount of interest that Siegrain observed Lahar over the next few days.

The Knight put on a good act at first. On the morning after Matthias had left for the Tower of Heaven and never returned, his younger brother showed up with his usual impeccable punctuality for morning patrol. He carried out his duties without displaying a single outward sign of concern. Even when questions began to arise about why Matthias hadn't shown up for work, he shrugged them off with a deflecting remark about his brother's lax attitude towards the formalities of the workplace. Watching from afar, Siegrain couldn't help but feel impressed by his control.

Because all the while, underneath that façade, he knew Lahar was panicking. It was easy for him to guess the thoughts running through the Knight's mind. First, he would estimate how long it should have taken Matthias to reach the Tower of Heaven, look around, and come back. Once that deadline passed, he would begin revising it by adding in perfectly rational explanations for the delay. It had been quite late by the time he set off, so maybe he had stopped overnight in a town on the way there. Maybe it had taken him longer to find a boat than he had anticipated. Maybe there had been bad weather at the coast, too localized for reports of it to have reached Era, and it was too dangerous to leave port. Maybe he had stopped again on his way back. Maybe he had gone to visit a friend while he was in the area; perhaps they had cousins somewhere nearby. Maybe he hadn't been sure quite what to make of the evidence he had found, so had made a detour to the nearest destroyed R-System in order to make comparisons…

But days went by, and there was still no sign of Matthias. The Knight's mental excuses became so flimsy that even he could no longer believe them. His smile grew less passable; his responses to those asking if he knew where his brother was became more standoffish; he began avoiding those he had been close to, so he would not have to face their questions.

It was on the evening of the fourth day after Matthias's disappearance that Siegrain judged Lahar had reached his breaking point – and that meant it was time for him to intervene.

As was fast becoming his norm, Lahar left the training ground the moment his shift was over through a rarely used side gate, and that was where Siegrain was waiting for him. Siegrain called out to him quietly, and the Knight jumped, having thought he had finally managed to get away from the crushing curiosity of other people. A look of panic flashed across his face before he could hide it.

"Not now, not now," he whispered, almost feverishly, and certainly without realizing that the other could hear him. "I just want to go home; can't you leave me alone?"

If Siegrain heard the Knight's plea, he paid it no heed. "What's going on, Lahar?"

There was authority in that tone, just enough to remind the Knight that he was talking to a superior as well as a friend, and that there were rules of Council etiquette in place in case he was thinking of dodging the conversation. There was a flicker of hopeless understanding in the Knight's eyes. Still, he tried, "I need to get home. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

Siegrain ignored this too. He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. "What's wrong? You haven't been acting like yourself lately."

"It's nothing." A short, sharp denial that gave away far more than Lahar had been intending.

"It's not nothing, and I'm not the only one who's noticed. What's going on, Lahar?" he repeated, and when the other set his mouth in a firm line and gave no response, Siegrain added, "Is it to do with Matthias?"

"I don't know where he is, okay?" came the snapped retort, a little too fast and a little too hostile. "It's not like he tells me every time he leaves Era! He's probably just on a job or something! He goes out all the time without bothering to inform anyone; that's just what he's like!"

The Knight did not seem to notice the hysteria in his own voice, yet Siegrain was all too aware of it. Lahar was so close to the edge. So Siegrain backed off, and when he next spoke, his voice was a little gentler. This came so easily to him. "I know that. That's what I figured too, when he didn't show up a few days ago. But there seems to be unease amongst the Council, and with you acting the way you have been recently… well, today I sneaked a look at the Council's mission log to try and find out for myself, and there was nothing. He hasn't gone out on a job, Lahar."

"Sometimes jobs don't get logged."

"True. Sometimes there are missions so secret that not even the entire Council can know about them. Sometimes administrative errors occur. In fact, there are any number of explanations as to why Matthias hasn't been seen for the past few days. I mean, he has been known to take on informal jobs just because someone close to him has suggested it, and disappeared for days at a time," he added, with a shrug. "Because of that, I hadn't been worrying about him. Only… I know you know that too. You've never worried when he's disappeared before. And the fact that you've been acting like you have over the past few days tells me something very important. You're not worrying because you don't know where he is. You're worrying because you know _exactly_ where he is. Don't you, Lahar?"

The Knight said nothing, another confirmation he was not aware he was giving. Not that it mattered. Siegrain had all the answers anyway; his questions may as well have been rhetorical.

He gave a patient sigh. "I need to know where he is and what he's doing. The thing is, Lahar, if he's gone rogue then I'm the one who'll have to go and bring him back-"

"He hasn't!" Lahar shouted abruptly. He took a few agitated steps down the street, stopped just as suddenly, and wheeled around to face Siegrain, running one hand through his long hair. "It's nothing like that! Matthias would _never_ betray the Council!"

"Then what is he doing?"

Turning away once again, Lahar didn't say anything for a long time. Hardly anyone used this exit; the path leading back out through the gardens and into the town was empty. He knew, just as well as Siegrain did, that no one was going to interrupt and save him from this conversation. And Siegrain's patience was brutal.

"He should be back by now," Lahar muttered, so quietly that the other almost missed it. "He promised me. If he could have returned, then he would have done, which means… something's happened. My brother does a lot of things wrong, but he wouldn't screw up something like this. He'd have come back to me straight away. And he hasn't, so… he must be dead."

"Dead? _Dead?_ " Siegrain gave a bewildered laugh. "What? This is a joke, right? He's run off with a girl or something, hasn't he? Or he's hiding in a hospital somewhere, too ashamed to admit to the Council that he actually got hurt on a job. Or – wait, I bet he told you to say that, didn't he? This is some sort of practical joke, to see how I'll react, right? It is, Lahar. Tell me it is. Isn't it?"

And just as he anticipated, the Knight said nothing.

So he continued, "But… Matthias wouldn't just die! He wouldn't!" Siegrain shook his head definitively, affecting disbelief. "Not just like that!"

"That's what I keep trying to tell myself." He took a great, shuddering breath. "But I _know._ I can just feel it."

"He… I can't believe it. This is… So suddenly? Just like that? But I talked to him on the day he disappeared! We talked about _nothing._ Everything was… normal. Are you telling me that was the last conversation we're ever going to have? He's just… gone?"

There were tears in the Knight's eyes. "That's what it means to be a mage of the Council, isn't it?" he asked, despairingly. "That's this life. It doesn't matter how strong you are. All it takes is for one enemy to be stronger than you… to catch you by surprise… to lead you into a trap… and then you die. One mistake, and that's the end of you."

"What… was his mistake?"

Lahar said nothing for a while, gazing instead at the clear sky, and the birds who soared above without a care in the world. Eventually, he asked, of those black specks against the brilliant, unreachable blue, "Is it true that the Tower of Heaven is an R-System?"

Siegrain's response was steady – far more so than it would have been had he not already been expecting the question. "It is. Did Wendy tell you that?" He received a single nod in confirmation. "I suppose I can't really blame her. She's only a child; I'm surprised she kept it a secret for as long as she did." When no response seemed forthcoming, he allowed a little confusion to slip into his perfectly measured tone. "What does that have to do with anything?" And then, with growing horror, a dark accusation: "Lahar, what did you do?"

"Could he have done it? Could Jellal have killed my brother?"

"He is perhaps the only person I know who is capable of it. But…"

"I asked him to investigate." Here at last, the whispered confession, confirming that Siegrain's deductions on that night had been right. "I didn't know what to do. So I asked Matthias to go and find out if it was true. He went, and- and now he's gone."

Lahar glanced at Siegrain, hoping for sympathy or comfort. What he wasn't expecting was for Siegrain to take a horrified step back, staring at him with wide eyes. "Doesn't that mean… that it's your fault Matthias is dead?"

"What?" That one word was full of panic, and utter, utter, incomprehension, so pitiful that Siegrain had to fight to keep his delight from showing on his face. "No! I didn't think it was going to be dangerous- I didn't- I-"

Those pleading eyes sought help from the one he had considered a friend and found only revulsion. "You sent him to the Tower of Heaven on an unauthorized mission – to a place that the Council has already decreed is too dangerous to attack directly! You knew the Council would have denied your request to investigate, so you went straight to Matthias, knowing full well he would do _anything_ for you if you asked, and you sent him there to die!"

"I-"

"Protocol exists for a reason, Lahar! Sure, there's all the legal hoops to jump through, but at heart it's all about risk assessment; judging whether the danger posed to our agents in the field outweighs the potential gain from the mission! What on earth made you think you knew better than the Council? They've been protecting the mages of this world for decades, using tried and tested methods, and you just thought you'd ignore all of that and do your own thing, regardless of who you were putting in danger?"

"I- It's not like that!" the Knight tried in desperation, only to be silenced by a thunderous crack as Siegrain slammed his fist against the wall.

"Did it not occur to you that maybe, just maybe, I had a good reason for withholding that information from the Council? Even on a good day, I don't think I could beat Jellal – let alone at the heart of his own R-System! If I thought there was a chance we could have won, don't you think I'd have raided the Tower with Matthias years ago? Did that not even _occur_ to you?" he reiterated, each word cutting through him more effectively than any blade.

"I… I didn't…"

Softer now, but no kinder; a ruthless, whispered condemnation. "Why didn't you come to me, Lahar?"

There was no answer the Knight could have given except to confess his inability to trust Siegrain – the man whom in that moment his distraught self needed kindness from above all else – so he did not give one.

Bitterly, Siegrain continued, "I thought we were friends, Lahar. When you found out about the Tower from Wendy, why didn't you talk to me about it? I could have told you what was going on… none of this would have happened. But you had to take matters into your own hands, and because of you, Matthias is dead."

Lahar had opened his mouth to interrupt, one last attempt to defend himself, only to find that he could not say anything; not after those barbed words. The only sound that came out was a strangled choke; desperation smothered by grief.

"How could you do that, Lahar? He was my _friend_. How _could_ you?"

One final judgement, an arrow straight through the heart.

"Siegrain," the Knight begged. "I didn't… please…"

But Siegrain walked away without another word, leaving the Knight broken and sobbing against the wall.

* * *

He hadn't gone far when he heard the sound of footsteps running to catch up with his; a soft tread that was quickly becoming familiar to his ears. Ultear fell into step beside him as he walked through the sweeping gardens. There was a light in her eyes that he recognized; a confidence to her step and a true, excitable joy in the smirk on her face.

"You're a cruel man, Siegrain," she remarked.

"Oh?" he inquired, with a lilting fake curiosity to his tone. "You were watching?"

She did not feel the need to answer that. He knew full well that she had been observing him using simple scrying magic channelled through that orb she always carried; she, in turn, had taken his lack of action about it as permission to watch. These things were far more fun when there was a comrade to share them with.

Shrugging, he continued, "I did what I had to do, that was all." Those words might have been apologetic, except it was modesty, and not regret, shaping his tone. It matched the dark elation soaring through him. "It would be problematic if he told the Council the truth about the Tower of Heaven. I'm not ready for that yet."

"Do you think that will be enough to stop him?"

"Oh, yes," came his light response. "For Lahar, going to the Council and telling them everything he just told me is the same thing as accepting that Matthias's death is his fault. He won't be able to bring himself to do that. The guilt would tear him apart. Not to mention, if he did take responsibility in that way, he'd have to go through that entire encounter again with the Council, with his family, with all his friends and colleagues in the Rune Knights… there'd be nothing left of him by the end. Most likely he'll spend the next few days in terror that I'm going to tell the Council what happened to Matthias, and when I don't, he'll be so relieved to have escaped that fate that it won't even occur to him to tell them himself and go through that torment of his own will. He'll keep my secret. He no longer has a choice."

A small, savage smile flickered across his face. "Besides, telling the Council the truth also means admitting his violation of protocol in sending Matthias out on that suicide mission… and I think it's going to be a long time before our loyal little Knight breaks the law again, don't you?"

Ultear laughed. "You really are a remarkable man. Murdering Lahar's brother and then convincing him it was all his fault? Impressive as always, Siegrain."

"Not really," he deflected, and for the first time, it seemed as though there was a trace of a lament in his voice. "He's a good man, and good men are always the easiest to break."

She stared at him in surprise. There was a strange look on her face, just for a moment, before it dissolved into her usual scheming grin. "Indeed they are."

* * *

By the end of the week, it seemed that everyone knew what had happened to Matthias.

They didn't have all the details, of course. They didn't know where he had gone or why he had gone there – only that he had taken on an unauthorized mission, and he hadn't come back. Officially, he was registered as missing, and would remain as such for several months, until Council regulations permitted them to quietly declare him dead in absentia and his funeral could at last be held. Everyone knew the truth, though. Not a single person amongst the Knights or the Council honestly believed that Matthias would be found alive and well.

How much of a hand Siegrain had had in spreading the rumours, Lahar didn't know. Certainly he had done nothing to prevent them, except perhaps to conceal Jellal's involvement in the whole affair. Surely it was only from him that the Council could have picked up such certainty that the missing assassin was dead. He might have confronted Siegrain about it – might have demanded to know why he hadn't told the Council the whole truth – but the mere thought of facing that man again was enough to send a shiver of numbness through his body. He couldn't do it. He knew he couldn't do it. And the worst was that he didn't even care. What did it matter now? It wouldn't change anything.

And that knowledge brought with it the sense of relief – the relief that he couldn't help seizing, even if it made him feel like the most disgusting human being in existence. If everyone already knew, it meant he didn't have to tell anyone himself. And if Siegrain didn't tell the Council precisely where Matthias had gone, he would never have to explain his own part in sending him to his death either. The accusations would never come. And even as the thought of such abhorrent cowardice made him feel physically sick, it was also the only thing keeping him going in the wake of what he had done; the only thing which allowed him to somehow keep breathing as each second ticked by like an eternity.

Lahar pressed his forehead to the glass of the window and looked out across the training grounds without really seeing them. It was early March. The first signs of spring should have been showing, and yet the world he observed through the window seemed firmly in the grip of the long, dead winter. It was cold, but not cold enough for snow. Grey clouds hung perpetually overhead. They did not bring rain, but nor would they let themselves be dispersed by the wind. They just stayed there, pointlessly existing, hiding the sun from view and bathing the entire world in a pale, lacklustre shadow.

It was a dark scene that he saw, a dull one; one without colour or purpose. Good. That was how it was supposed to be. That was what the world was like without Matthias, after all.

But there was something not quite right with that scene. The more he focussed on the blurred shadows of motion behind the white circle his breath had made on the glass, the more annoyed he became. Grey, dull and lifeless; that's what it should have been like. Yet out there in the gloom, there were Knights – still moving, still training, still living. Like they couldn't see the grey skies, or they couldn't feel the cold, or they hadn't noticed that no spring flowers had emerged from the frozen soil, or they just hadn't understood what the season was trying to tell them: that that was it, the happiness was over now, winter had come and it was never ever going to leave.

He watched them, Knights of all ages, most on duty and some there simply in their free time, practising with magic, running through training drills, staging mock combats between divisions and preparing for upcoming military expeditions. The glass muffled the sounds of life, but it couldn't exclude them completely. They were doing exactly as they had always done. As if nothing had changed. As if they didn't care that it had. As if they didn't understand that this time, the summer wasn't coming.

Trapped inside, in a room where nothing changed, looking out at a world which refused to bow to the mood of the seasons; which kept pushing on through the gloom and despair; which kept on _living_ – he couldn't understand what was driving them to keep fighting. There was far more than just a simple pane of glass between him and them. How could he be a part of that ignorant, uncaring world, that could just keep moving on as if nothing had happened?

Something _had_ happened. The world was different now. How dare they just pretend that it wasn't? How could they act like there was still a _reason_ for doing anything at all?

He only realized he had punched the glass when a sharp pain burst against his knuckles, and he stared at his fist in something akin to confusion. It wasn't the pain that bothered him, but the pointlessness of it. He wondered what meaning his hand had hoped to find in that action; why it had bothered to act at all.

The Council had told him to take some time off until he felt ready to return to work – and he had, at first, but he hadn't been able to endure more than half a day at home. To begin with, he hadn't understood why he was finding it so difficult. He lived alone, in a small apartment not too dissimilar to Siegrain's, though on the opposite side of the city. It wasn't an unusual setup for a young, single man; it was his first home, having moved out of his parents' house when he had completed Rune Knight training and had his own stable source of income. Matthias had done the same, a few years prior. It wasn't as if they lived together. They were independent adults, after all. They ran into each other at work more often than anywhere else, and, barring the occasional obligatory family dinner, it wasn't as if Matthias had even been to his house all that often.

So it wasn't a place full of memories, and it wasn't a place where he was unused to being alone either. Like his colleagues, he thought it was probably for the best if he spent some time there until he was able to return to work. And he had been right, in a sense. There was nothing triggering in that building – nothing his eyes fell upon which induced sudden, terrifying flashbacks, or haunting visions, or paralyzing nightmares.

But he had also underestimated the weight of his grief. There was so much more to it than just the severe, obvious symptoms. The moment he was alone in that place, memories he had not even known he possessed – events he had not thought about once in the years since they passed – resurfaced of their own accord. And in a way it was worse than triggered attacks, because there was no way of rationalizing or explaining or even hoping to avoid them.

They were only small things. Trivial things. That time when he had first moved in, and roped Matthias into helping him shift all his belongings. When his brother had dropped the dresser onto his own foot. Trying not to laugh as he hopped around the room. Demanding to know how he had ever made it as an assassin. That airy shrug; the blissfully ignorant your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine, said with that always-carefree smile. The little things, which held no meaning at all except by their absence. And cutting through those memories, an echo of that cold, cold voice-

 _Because of you, Matthias is dead._

And worse than the memories, worse even than the guilt, was the fact that he couldn't cry about it. He had thought that the moment he was alone, with no more need for tough act he had to put on in front of his friends, he would have broken down in tears – and somehow, by turning this feeling of emptiness into something tangible like pain or sorrow, it would have made it real; that true, sheer, unending tears of grief could have somehow proven that this wasn't his fault and allowed him some measure of acceptance-

But there was nothing. No tears; no emotions he could so much as put a name to. He simply sat and stared at the wall, unable to cry, and each memory reminded him of another and another and another over and over again and still he had no reaction to them, just this increasing numbness, as his own guilt denied him any chance at absolution. Condemned to this suffering, to a life that held no good reasons for living, because Matthias's death had been his fault. And it seemed as though everything in the world knew it, and was mocking him with memories and endless, endless emptiness.

So he had gone back to work. He had thought that having something to do would somehow help. He had not been so naïve as to think there was anything that could 'take his mind off' what he had done, but he had hoped that if he could do something with this grieving time that could be of use to someone – to his colleagues, to his employers, even to the citizens he was supposed to be serving – it might make him feel a little better; feel like there was still some good that he could do with this life after everything that he had caused to happen.

But that wasn't how it worked. If he had once found a reason to live in this place, he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was. He watched his fellow Knights training and didn't understand their eagerness. What was the point in getting stronger if someone as powerful as Matthias could just be killed out of the blue without warning? There was a gulf in power between those like Matthias and the Knights like him that could never be overcome, so what was the point in trying? If there were dark mages out there as strong as Jellal, what could anyone possibly do against them, when not even Matthias could win?

There was so much evil in the world, so much darkness and so much despair, and even if they could kill one dark mage, one demon, or one mafia boss, there would always be another to take his place. He had believed that if he did his job, and enforced the law, and captured criminals, then he would be helping those with power like Matthias who could actually make a difference in the world, but that was a foolish, idealistic dream. No one could overcome the hatred that ruled over this world. And his attempt to do some good had killed his brother. If there was any proof that nothing in this bleak world could be changed, surely it was that.

Without the motivation or the desire or that naïve yet powerful ideal that had driven him for all this time, the life he had been living up until now seemed suddenly pointless. There was a new emptiness within him that the death of his brother could not fully account for; an emptiness which fed back into his guilt and compounded the blame placed upon himself. And he could stand and watch his fellow Knights in the training grounds and envy their innocent belief that they could do anything in this world with enough hard work, and not understand why they could keep acting as they had before his entire world had fallen apart, and, just a little, he could hate them for it.

Just a week ago, everything had made sense. For those Knights, running through their drills in the training ground, oblivious to the unnatural persistence of winter, everything still did make sense. But for him, that which he had been so certain of no longer held any conviction. That was why they were out there, and he was in here, his palms pressed up against the glass, trying to find some meaning in the things that they took for granted.

And even though he had come back to work, more often than not, this was what he ended up doing. This was his lunch break; right now, he should have been in the canteen with the others, or maybe the café in the training ground, or, as he had done occasionally in the past, getting lunch from one of the many small cafés in town where he was known as a regular customer. But that was what he had done on the days when Matthias had been alive. How could he even consider doing just what he had always done, in a world where Matthias was dead? So he was here instead, watching the world outside and waiting for the hour's break to be over.

Oh, there was a part of him that knew it was ridiculous. It wasn't as if eating or not eating would change the fact that Matthias was dead. But logic had no part in this. He didn't feel like eating. He had a good grasp of his own limits – of the absolute minimum he had to force himself to eat in order to prevent any significant lapses in physical ability – and he saw no point in pushing himself beyond what was necessary to stay alive; to remain physically capable of doing his job.

And of course, going to the canteen or some other such public place would have meant interacting with other people.

Almost as if his drifting line of thought had triggered it, there came a knock at the door. He ignored it. Doing so had become so instinctive to him now that he no longer felt any guilt for it.

Of course, it didn't always work, and this was one of the times when whoever was on the other side of the door refused to get the message. After he didn't reply to the second round of tapping, or the third, he heard a muffled voice call out, "Captain? I'm coming in, okay?" And then the door opened and there was another person in the room and the protection between him and the rest of the world was suddenly gone.

The Knight who entered was one of the few under Lahar's command who was actually younger than him, having only passed her final training exams a few months ago. When she saw him, a look entered her eyes that he had come to recognize. Over the past few days he had seen it in many different people and with increasing frequency, and always directed at him. He had learnt to identify it so reliably as an early warning system of sorts – he knew to run when he saw it, and if it were not possible to escape from the situation without putting himself in an even worse position, he could at least brace himself emotionally against it.

But in a scenario where his rank gave him some illusion of control, there was maybe something he could do. "What is it?" he snapped, harsh and forceful, cutting across the inevitable words she had been about to say. It was a reminder of his authority – that he was her commanding officer, and if he ordered her to do something, no matter what she felt about it or how trivial it seemed, she had to do it.

She was a trained Knight; she understood that tone of voice. Dipping her head respectfully, she said, "The new patrol rosters have just been posted, and… I don't think they're right."

"They are right," he told her curtly.

But rather than dropping the issue, she frowned. "No, they can't be. I mean, since I've started here, patrols around the city have always been done in pairs, but according to this schedule, you're on your own."

"Yes."

"But…" Still confused, she floundered for the words to express a sentiment which shouldn't have needed expressing. After failing to come up with any tactful way of putting it, but being unable to back down after broaching the subject, she eventually went with, "But why would you want to be on your own? Patrol duty is boring enough even when you have someone to talk to – not to mention it's always good to have someone who can help if something comes up! And you're our Captain! You don't even have to _do_ patrols if you don't want to! None of the other Captains do! So are you _sure_ it's right?"

When he said nothing, she added nervously, "Only, the others were saying that if there's been an administrative error or something you'll often just go along with it so that the person who made the mistake doesn't get blamed – but you have the right not to do patrols if you don't want to, and if there's a problem in the system then it really ought to be addressed, and I'm more than happy to raise the point on your behalf-"

"There isn't a problem. I asked to be put on the roster, and I asked to go out alone. It's just easier that way."

"But, Captain…"

And as she tried to protest for his sake, there it was again, that look darting through her eyes, an attack far more powerful than any magic: pity.

That was how everyone around him looked at him, and he hated it. People he had considered his equals were all of a sudden treating him with kid gloves. He wanted to scream at them: _do you really think anything you do is going to make this situation any worse? Do you think you're so important that the way in which you greet me is going to have any impact at all on how I feel right now?_

And it made him angry, unreasonably so, but reason played no part in grief. He knew it wasn't them and their kindness that he was really angry with, but himself, and with no outlet for that anger, he was projecting it onto those around him. Their good intentions were tearing him apart.

The least they could do was act normally around him, but no, there was always that pity – and what it meant. Every time he looked at someone, he knew they were thinking about his loss and how much he was suffering, and working out what to say that would upset him the least. He knew that. And that painfully ineffectual attempt at empathy only served to remind him of what he had lost. If there was ever a moment in which he could focus on something else, the instant he saw another person – saw that inevitable look of pity – he was reminded of everything that he had so briefly been able to put aside. The emptiness opened up once more inside him, vaster and bleaker than ever before.

And the worst thing about their pity was the knowledge that he didn't deserve it. Their sympathy was directed to the poor Knight whose brother had been taken from him in an accident, not to the man whose disobedience of orders and stupid, rash, egotistical decision to take matters into his own hands had been the direct cause of his own brother's death. Like his inability to cry over the matter, this mistaken pity invalidated his own sadness and exacerbated his guilt, confirming that he was a liar and the worst kind of human being.

 _Because of you, Matthias is dead._

An echo of those words cut once again through his mind. He remembered the condemnation in Siegrain's voice as he had spoken them; the hatred, the scorn, the derision, the accusation. That crushing castigation – even as he trembled from the fear of that memory, he still longed to hear it again, for it was what he deserved, wasn't it?

Not this pity. He despised it.

The young Knight must have seen some of this in the look on his face, because she hastily closed her mouth, suppressing whatever well-meaning yet inevitably torturing sentence she had been about to utter, bowed in some sort of clumsy apology, and left the room. The instant she was out of sight he ran over to the door and slammed it shut. There was no lock on it, so he did the next best thing and pressed his back to it, forcing it shut against any potential intruders. As all the strength drained from his legs, he slid down the door to sit huddled at its foot. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, pressed his forehead to his knees, and waited for the total breakdown-

Which never came. No shaking, no screaming, no flashbacks, _still_ no tears. No way of vindicating the complete mess of feelings inside him. Nothing. Nothing but emptiness. Within himself, within the rest of the world. Just nothing.

Not allowed to grieve. Not allowed self-pity. Not knowing either how he would keep going, or what the point would be even if he could. This was his punishment.

After five minutes of trying and failing to cry, Lahar climbed to his feet and went out on patrol.

There was no point in further putting it off, after all. He knew he would have to go out and face the city at some point. That was why he had requested to be added to the patrol schedule, against the advice of all his colleagues.

He hadn't been out into the city centre once since Siegrain had confronted him on that evening. He hadn't had the courage. The thought of wide open spaces, with no privacy and nowhere safe nearby that he could run to if he needed to get away from it all, terrified him, as did the thought of the memories he would have to face when he passed the places he had often been with Matthias. But worst of all… worst of all were the people.

Patrols were something he had always enjoyed. In that respect, he had been quite unusual for a Knight. For most, patrols were a pointless chore – the strict regulations made them tedious, and things hardly ever happened while the Knights were doing their rounds in the city, so they were rarely gratifying, unlike other aspects of their work. But for him, they had been… well, he didn't really know any more. He could no longer comprehend the meaning of enjoying something. But he remembered meeting people; talking to them; getting to know them; walking through the market in the middle of winter and marvelling at its existence, even as he greeted all the traders by name, and they greeted him in return.

And therein lay the problem. Everyone knew him. And everyone knew what had happened. Gossip spread like a plague in the lively atmosphere of the market, and that only went double for gossip concerning the Magic Council. If he went in there, he would have to contend with the questions and the well-meaning words of torture that he was only just becoming able to cope with from his co-workers.

There was, as usual, no desperate feeling of panic; no strong, overwhelming emotion that he could give over control of his self-awareness to with relief. There was only a growing feeling of dread as he approached the marketplace. His patrol route took him right through the centre of it. He could have avoided it, could have gone around, but wouldn't that have defeated the point? Regardless of what he had done, he was still a Knight, and his deep-rooted sense of duty wouldn't allow him to abandon the set route. He had known that when he had signed up for it.

He stopped for a moment or two, watching the marketplace from afar. It was a great paved square close to the centre of the city, without any houses or other permanent structures to break up its great sprawling majesty. It was filled with all manner of stalls, ranging from tents to wooden stands to temporary shelters that had been crafted out of whatever spare materials the ingenious shopkeepers had been able to get their hands on.

As always, the place bustled with its own incomparable energy, dashing any hopes he may have been clinging to that the inhospitable weather might have dissuaded the traders from coming out. For the first time, he found himself resenting that spirit of determination. How could they possibly have so much carefree energy in a world where people you love can just die without warning? How dare they be as cheerful as they always had been? Why, oh why, did they have to choose _today_ to show off their indomitability, when they could just have stayed at home and made his job so much easier?

Once again, he found himself waiting for the mental breakdown to hit, and when it didn't, he walked on and entered the marketplace.

Everything was so familiar. The smells, the sights, the sounds – they were overwhelming. It was exactly the same as it had always been, with one major exception: he was never going to walk through here with Matthias again. And because it still refused to come as tears, that thought instead came as anger, towards himself and towards everyone else in this place, who refused to acknowledge the earth-shattering importance of that fact and just carried on as normal.

"Lahar! Good afternoon!"

As he had thought, it wasn't long at all before someone called out to him. It was the baker, the one who made the posh cakes he could only afford to buy as gifts and never for himself, hailing him from behind his usual stand. He felt the sudden urge to run, but he had already made eye contact. He walked over to the man as one might have walked to the gallows.

"Good afternoon." Nothing more than that, and a hundred times more subdued than he might have said it a week ago.

"How are you today?"

It was an innocent question, perfectly respectable, and yet he was amazed when his own response wasn't a scream of pain. "Fine. And yourself?"

"Good, good." The man nodded to himself, and then he rummaged around under the counter and pulled out a small paper bag, which he pushed into the Knight's hand. "Here."

He looked at it without understanding. "No – I couldn't possibly-"

"It's a gift. It's a new recipe I'm trying out. I hope you like lemon-"

"Why?" That blunt whisper cut across the baker's bubbly explanation. And in that instant he saw what he had missed the first time: the sympathy that danced like a shadow behind the shopkeeper's gaze. Of course. What else could it have been? Behind the pretence, behind the 'I'm giving one of these to everyone' lie to make him feel better, there was just another person who believed he was someone who needed – who _deserved_ – pity.

"Thanks," he said, without waiting for a verbal answer. It came out all wrong, but he didn't care; he took the bag because he had no choice and turned on his heel and walked off before the man could say anything else.

The next time someone tried to call across to him he pretended not to hear them, and the next time, and the time after that. He kept his gaze on the earth or the sky, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. And it was working, really it was, and he didn't have to stop and talk to anyone until, thus distracted, he walked straight into a short, plump woman and had to stop and apologize. Given how his luck was working out at the moment, it was utterly unsurprising that the woman was a florist whom he knew well, and had always stopped and talked to every week.

She didn't ask him how he was. She was more tactful than that. But she didn't let him leave either, immediately launching into a full report of everything that had happened to her since they last met: how her daughters were doing, how her trip abroad had been; all the things Lahar would have politely inquired about had nothing out of the ordinary happened between then and now.

She was trying to be normal. She was not mentioning it for his sake, and not understanding that she didn't need to say it out loud for him to know. He really did want to ask after her twins, he honestly cared about how they were getting on, but he just couldn't stand it any more – the weight of his guilt, the pain of that pity; he just couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry," he found himself saying. "I can't talk now. I'm on duty."

He saw the florist's confusion, and understood all too well what was going through her mind. Being on duty had never prevented him from stopping and talking to everyone before. She reached for what was, to her, the most obvious conclusion, and gave him a knowing smile. "Ah, they've tightened up regulations, have they? It's understandable. They must be quite paranoid at the moment. I'm sure it'll go back to normal soon, though."

She patted him on the shoulder, as if to reassure him of something. "Well, don't let me keep you. I wouldn't want to get you into trouble with the Council. Do drop by when you're not on patrol; it'll be nice to catch up with you."

"Yeah," he said, numbly. It was just to end the conversation; he had no intention of doing so.

But she didn't question it. She just let him go. And as he kept walking through that place, and acquaintances kept calling out to him, he began to realize that it was working. "I can't stop. I'm on duty." That was all he had to say, and they would just let him go. Sometimes he just ignored their greetings outright. Enough of the traders had got the message by now; even those he hadn't turned away in person would find out what was going on soon enough. And like this, he could protect himself. He didn't have to suffer that pity.

By the time he emerged from the other side of the marketplace, somehow still alive and somehow in no more pain than before, he had come to accept this epiphany.

 _If I make myself unapproachable, they'll stop trying to talk to me. I won't have to see that pity. I won't have to lie. I won't have to try and pretend to be alright… or pretend to be someone that I am not. I can always hide behind the law. That can be my excuse. Just like today, they'll blame the law, rather than me._

And then, with a sudden intake of breath: _And if I do that, nothing like this will happen again. It'll be the fault of the one who made the rules, not me… and I won't have to go through this ever again._

As he walked away from the marketplace, he felt the burden of shame lift ever so slightly from his shoulders; a defence mechanism, which, in his state of emotional turmoil, he could easily misinterpret as a sign that things might one day get better. For the first time, he dared to think that maybe, if he carried on just like this, there was a chance he could get through this.

Not once did he realize that the thing he had latched on to as a sign of hope was the sound of the person he had once been breaking beyond repair.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Wow, I feel like such a horrible person. I also feel as though I should say that this is the worst things are going to get. That's not to say they'll immediately get better - because they won't - but this will be the last angsty chapter. I don't think I could cope with doing another. Besides, Jellal will take back the narration next chapter, and he's having a whale of a time being evil, so he's not going to let things get so depressing._

 _Thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter. Normal service will resume from here on out! ~CS_


	25. Hand in Hand, But Worlds Apart

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Hand in Hand, But Worlds Apart-**

 **December, X783**

Siegrain had a project, and that project had taken over the entirety of his office.

The left-hand wall was covered in a map depicting the mountainous region to the north-east of Fiore. The map itself was incomplete: the harsh climate and inhospitable terrain combined to create regions from which no explorer had ever returned to tell of their secrets. The tallest of the peaks were too high for even the hardiest of ice mages to scale; the perpetual blizzards dissuaded even those with the power of flight from entering its hidden valleys.

Thus the map, which stretched from floor to ceiling and covered almost the whole width of the small room's wall, depicted with accuracy only those mountains hospitable enough to support small villages, and the areas close enough to them for pioneers to brave in the summer months. Whole regions of the map had been drawn in by pure guesswork, estimating the heights of peaks and layouts of valleys from afar; a few central locations were entirely blank.

Yet the incompleteness of the map only made its presence there more impressive. Many of the blank regions had additional sheets of paper pinned over them, upon which Siegrain had sketched his own maps of the missing terrain, attempting to match the scale and style of the official publication as best as possible. This project of his had begun in the summer, when ventures into the outlying mountains were a relatively safe pastime enjoyed by many, but progress had slowed considerably once the tourist season had ended and the blizzards had set in – and he had come to better understand the scale of the mission he had undertaken.

Thanks to his flying ability, he could cover far more ground in a day than an ordinary surveyor, even accounting for doubling back every evening so that he could make camp somewhere safe. Crevasses and glaciers were no barrier to him, and avalanches no danger, while the sheer strength of the magic in his veins shielded his body from the worst of the cold, provided he didn't overdo it. He had by no means completed the map – it would be decades before technology and magic mastery had advanced sufficiently for the hardiest of pioneers to conquer that harsh environment, and besides, accuracy in height measurements, the composition of rocks and glaciers, and the nature of other land features that would have interested a geographer were not important to him, and so remained unacknowledged by his efforts. Nonetheless, if he had chosen to publish his work, his contributions to cartography would undoubtedly have earned him kingdom-wide recognition.

But he was not interested in anything of the sort. There was only one reason why he would have gone to so much trouble to map a hitherto unexplored area.

The patchwork map displayed the heights of the mountains using the standard combination of shading and contours, and he had added to it curving arrows in a colour scheme that made sense only to him. An ordinary explorer might have thought those arrows showed the usual wind direction or common avalanche sites. Only someone who understood his mission could have guessed that those directions indicated the subtle flow of magic through the region. The construction of something as great and terrible as an R-System always left traces for those who knew where – and how – to look for them.

All around the map, he had pinned an assortment of other evidence he had collected during his expeditions: sketches he and others had made of unnatural landforms; eyewitness reports of unusual activity in the mountains; and drawings of suspicious footprints, out-of-place clothing, and even three separate corpses he had found frozen in the ice, all of which had been killed by something or someone before the cold could do the job. Red string connected each piece of evidence to a pin on the map marking where it had been found. It had once been a two-dimensional display, but that single wall had long since stopped being sufficient to contain all the information he was drawing together. His sketches and notes now covered every free surface the room had to offer, including the other walls, and all were connected together by an enormous web of string which made crossing the few metres from the door to his desk the longest part of his commute to work.

Today, as on many days, Siegrain was stood in the centre of the room, surveying the network of information he had built up from scratch with more than a little pride. There was an uncapped marker pen in his hand; a fresh 'X' glistening on the map picked out one of the countless valleys as special.

"This is it," he murmured. "I've finally found it!"

When no response was forthcoming, he turned to glare at the room's other occupant. Ultear was sat at his desk, pouring over a report that her department had asked her to evaluate. As if she sensed the weight of his gaze, she glanced up, hit her head against one of the taut red strands, and hastily shuffled herself into a position designed to minimize the chance of her pulling down the entire display by accident. Siegrain still hadn't quite forgiven her for the last time that had happened.

"What?" she checked peevishly.

"Couldn't you at least look a little impressed?"

"About what? I wasn't listening, sorry."

He sighed. "I've found it. The seventh and final R-System."

"Oh, have you now?" Despite the curious lilt to her voice, she was impressed and he knew it. No one who had seen the time and effort he had put into tracking it down – that was to say, no one who had set foot inside that room over the past six months, before he had banned all visitors apart from Ultear in order to protect his project – could fail to have admiration for his achievement. "And you're certain this is the last one?"

"Absolutely. All the evidence I've found points to the fact that this is the only remaining R-System – apart from mine, of course."

"The evidence that you doctored, you mean?" she asked, amused.

He raised his eyebrows. "I only changed it a little. I don't want the other systems to exist any more than the Council does."

"So this really is the last one, then. And yet, ironically, the first one that you've found without any help from that girl."

A scowl played across his face, but only briefly, for nothing could bring him down in this moment of great triumph. He hadn't relied upon Wendy's powers for this – she did not know that there was an R-System in the mountains at all, let alone where within that vast region it could be found. Nor had he used the resources of his followers in the Tower during his search, or the aid of anyone from the Council – not even Ultear, who had been otherwise preoccupied with expertly keeping a distressed, vengeful and increasingly desperate Melchior from interfering with her true boss's work.

It had taken him six long months to reach this point; it had occupied his every waking thought since the sixth and penultimate system had fallen to him in the early summer. It had been a prolonged and dangerous battle of fragmented clues and false leads, fought against a dark cult containing enough powerful mages, knowledge and resources to have constructed something so complex in the most extreme of environments, and he had come out the victor. He had a right to be elated.

"When are you going to raid it?" Ultear continued.

"As soon as possible."

"In the middle of winter?"

"Don't you think I'm capable of that?"

She shrugged. "I've seen you drag yourself back half-dead from those mountains enough times over the past few months to hope you might have learnt your lesson by now, that's all."

"I'm aware it won't be easy." Siegrain's gaze drifted back to the great sprawling map. Amongst the many symbols written on it were a handful which denoted particular natural dangers he had encountered – places where, because he hadn't been prepared for the environment, he had almost died. "But time is of the essence here. I could wait six months until most of the winter snows have melted, but by that time the Tower will be almost complete, and I need to be firmly established on the Council before then. And if the Tower is almost done, I can guarantee that the system in the mountains is just as close. Summer may well be too late. No, I'll raid it within the week."

He traced his finger over the panoramic sketch he had made of what he believed was the concealed entrance to the final R-System. The inhospitable environment had been the cult's ally when they were trying to avoid detection, but in a raid it would work against them. Given the range and destructive potential of his magic, he could already identify several locations where a well-placed Abyss Break could bring down the mountain on top of the cult and possibly even take out the system itself in a single blow-

The sound of something clattering to the floor brought his thoughts firmly back to the room. "Ultear, _careful,_ " he snapped, without even looking.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," came her testy response. Careful to avoid the red strings, she reached over the side of the desk to retrieve the object she had accidentally knocked onto the floor. "At least you're not going to need this ridiculous setup in here for much longer."

"They'd better give me a bigger office when I join the Council," he grumbled to himself. "Then again, it'd be a shame to just tear all this down after how long I spent putting it together. Maybe I'll have them keep it here, as a record of all the effort I had to put in for the sake of those fools. _This_ is how you track down a secret cult…"

"Siegrain."

Ultear, who clearly hadn't been paying any attention to his muttering, cut across him sharply. His gaze danced across to her; she raised the object she had knocked off the desk for him to see. It was a pocket watch of polished white gold, studded with small sapphires around the rim, and it dangled from a short, sturdy chain. It had caught her attention not because it was an extravagant or exquisite piece of craftsmanship – though it was certainly both of those things – but because it was so out of character for the man in front of her to care about owning an item of those qualities. Then again, judging by the initials engraved into the back of it, it didn't belong to him at all.

"Isn't this the watch that Councillor Byron reported as stolen the other week?"

"That's the one, yes."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "You know, I never had you down as a thief."

"It's all part of the plan, Ultear," he assured her, with an easy smile. "Byron will get it back before long. I'll be making sure of that."

"What are you plotting? You're not thinking of trying to implicate him in the final R-System project somehow, are you? It seems like an unnecessary risk to me. Everyone knows you're going to get his seat. He's not a fool; he knows better than to try and fight you for it… doesn't he?"

"You'll see."

"You know," she added, offhandedly, "I thought the point of being co-conspirators was that you were supposed to let me in on all your plans."

"Ah, but where would be the fun in that?" he grinned. "I like to keep you on your toes."

"You can say that again," she muttered with feeling. "Well, as long as you don't do anything that's going to jeopardize the plan to get you onto the Council, you can have your little games, I suppose."

"You know I wouldn't risk the plan," he told her. With a knowing smile, he added, "Of course, you could always come along on the raid if you wanted. Keep me out of trouble."

"I'll pass," Ultear replied, as she always did. "I have work to do here. Someone's got to keep an eye on Melchior."

"Suit yourself," Siegrain replied.

"You're not thinking of taking that girl with you, are you?"

"I made her a promise, and I intend to keep it," he responded coolly, ignoring the look of displeasure dancing within her narrowed eyes. The matter was clearly not open for debate. "If she wants to come along, she can do so."

"That girl is a liability to you, Jellal."

That got his attention, alright. His eyes snapped immediately across to hers; she flinched instinctively at the way the latent magic he was emitting had suddenly shot up in intensity. He growled, "Don't call me that."

Not at all innocently, she protested, "But it is who you are."

He didn't snap at her; he knew there would have been no point. He wouldn't have tolerated such smug behaviour from anyone else, but Ultear was his accomplice, and he could put up with it while she remained useful to him. He spoke coldly, but not threateningly. "Someone might overhear."

She giggled in that childish way of hers, pleased to have provoked such a strong reaction. "This conversation is incriminating enough as it is. We wouldn't be having it if we weren't both certain that this room was secure."

"I just don't want you to make a habit of it, that's all."

"As you wish, Siegrain," she said, offering him a sweet smile which he didn't return.

"Better."

"My question still stands, though. Why would you take that girl with you on the final raid?"

"Like I said, I made her a promise – she is welcome to come on any of the R-System missions with me, if she so desires."

"But why does a promise made to a naïve little girl over a year ago hold any meaning to you now?" When he said nothing, she attempted a different angle. "Then, what makes you think she'll want to come? You haven't seen her in months."

"She'll come if I ask her to."

"Why would you go to such lengths, though?"

"Because she's amusing," Siegrain told her, as a small smile touched his lips. "I want to see what I have to do to break her trust in me; how far I have to push her before she'll abandon me; how long it will take for her to realize who I really am. Her innocence is endlessly entertaining."

"Even so, she's dangerous. She knows too much – it would only take one slip for her to bring everything crashing down around you, like she almost did nine months ago. She's a disaster waiting to happen. And you _know_ this."

"Oh?"

There it was again, that dare; that warning. Not intimidated in the slightest, Ultear tapped her index finger impatiently against the desk. "You know that the best course of action would be to remove her from the picture once and for all."

"I will not kill her."

The young woman gave an exasperated sigh. "You still care about her, don't you?"

"I do not. But she still belongs to me. I will not kill her, and neither will anyone else… _Ultear._ "

"She will die anyway, when you use the Tower."

"Then it matters even less whether or not I kill her now, doesn't it?"

"Of course it matters!" she objected, shaking her head. "That girl has to-"

The temperature in the room suddenly dropped several degrees. Unrestrained hostility flashed between them, and when he spoke, it was an open threat. "Are you ordering me around, then, Ultear?"

She didn't need to be able to sense the icy fury of his magic to know that her very life might depend upon her answer to his question. She knew how far she could push him, and clearly that girl was the one matter upon which he would not suffer her interference.

So she glanced away shyly, hiding her annoyance and muttering her usual, "Of course not," as she normally would to defuse any such situation. However, she couldn't stop herself from adding, "But I do think you're making a mistake. Has it occurred to you that if you do not kill her, she might kill you?"

At this, Siegrain laughed out loud. " _Kill_ me?" he echoed, choking as he tried to laugh and speak at once. "Have you even _met_ her?"

"She's a good girl," his colleague pointed out. "She loves to help people; she likes everyone; the suffering of others makes her upset. If she found out who you really are, who you've been all this time, it might break her in ways you couldn't possibly predict."

He just shook his head, still laughing. "You don't know her like I do. She would never do anything like that."

Ultear looked like she wanted to argue, but she must have thought better of it, because she simply said, "If you say so. I still think that you're going to regret this, though."

"I will not kill her," he repeated, more calmly this time. "But I do agree that it is best to keep her at arm's length. Once this R-System has fallen, I will not contact her again." He placed his hands in his pockets; turned his attention back to the network of information that would lead him to the hidden cult, and to his destiny. "I haven't seen Wendy since the night of the fire. I never did say goodbye to her. This mission will be our final farewell."

* * *

The man, the girl, and the little winged cat stood in silence atop the ridge, surveying a world that was all white. Before them, the ancient glacial valley stretched out in all its magnificence, curving downwards to meet snow that had settled before the first human being had set foot upon the earth, and then rising up again, to a majestic, imposing peak that towered above them even from their high vantage point. The air was crisp and cold; each breath sent a shiver running through them and brought a whole new awareness of life and its clarity.

No footsteps led back the way they had come. All around them, the snow was unbroken; only the contrast of grey shadows on the white allowed them to pick out the steady rise and fall of landforms, forever buried beneath that smooth blanket. Only when it reached the tallest mountain did the snow's dominance start to wane, as the gradient at last became sufficient to shake off its clinging grasp and allow the black rock to peek through. A single cloud drifted silently across the brilliant blue sky.

It was a good day for a raid. It was bitterly cold, but the too-bright sunlight added an ethereal, beautiful touch to the landscape, and lifted their spirits just a little. Of course, the perfectly clear conditions would make it much more difficult for them to approach undetected – impossible, even, without camouflage gear that they simply didn't have – but attempting to launch an attack on a mountainous base during a snowstorm would have been the height of madness. Besides, Siegrain wasn't really one for subtlety when it came to his raids. Dealing with the Council took all the patience he had; there was none left over for his other enemies.

Thoughtfully, Siegrain reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper, which he unfolded to reveal a sketch he had made several days ago of the view before them. He compared the drawing to reality, nodded approvingly, and began making marks on it with a pencil.

"What are you doing?" Wendy asked him curiously.

When he did not answer, she tried to peer at the paper, but he deliberately turned it away from her, smiling a little all the while. After a moment or two, he folded the paper and returned the pencil to his pocket. Only then did he say, "Sentries. Can you sense any, Wendy?"

Siegrain had not bothered to bring binoculars, or any other ordinary instruments, on a mission like this. While it was true that visibility was exceptional under these weather conditions, none of the mundane senses could compare to detecting magic in such a place. Miles and miles away from the nearest human settlement, so isolated that not a single mage except him and his prey had passed this way for decades, it was so incredibly _quiet_ that even the faintest of signals, which he wouldn't have hoped to pick up in a forest or a village, seemed to jump straight out at him.

"Four," she replied immediately, pointing out their hiding places to him one after the other. "That I can sense, anyway."

Grinning, Siegrain showed Wendy his sketch of the environment – upon which he had marked four crosses, one in each of the locations she had just indicated to him. "Not bad, huh?"

After a moment's uncertainty, she smiled. "You're getting better at sensing magic, aren't you?"

He thought he understood why she had hesitated. The better he became at detecting magic, the less need he had for her skills, and the less likely he would be to take her with him on missions. Not that it made a difference anyway. They both knew that this would be the last time they travelled together. He had made no secret of that.

After nine months without contacting Wendy, and without her attempting to contact him either, he had suddenly arrived in her village without warning. She had run out to meet him, just like she always used to, but she didn't jump on him or try to hug him; she kept a respectful, perhaps even wary, distance. It was greatly preferable to her previous clinginess. Maybe she was growing up, or maybe she could tell that _he_ was.

He had told her that he was going to destroy the final R-System, that she could come if she wanted, and that it would be their last ever mission together. Expecting her to be enthusiastic, he had been surprised at how long it had taken her to make up her mind, and even once they had set off, she was a lot quieter than he remembered her being, and it had taken a few hours before she had started to relax once more around him.

"I've had a lot of practice in this environment, that's all," he informed her. "There'll be plenty more enemies in the caves that I can't detect from here, but there's nothing we can do about them until we get inside."

They were still a fair distance away from where he thought the R-System itself was, nestled in a man-made cave system within the giant peak in front of them – not so far away that the external sentries would not have spotted them, as the silence of the magic worked both ways, but far enough such that their enemies could learn nothing about them beyond their existence. They might have been emissaries from the Council; they might simply have been hikers, making the most of the calm weather. He'd do as much as he could before the cult could confirm the threat.

Siegrain removed the rucksack he had been carrying and dropped beside Wendy. "Look after my stuff," he told her. "I'll be back once I've dealt with these guys."

She looked at him, as if about to say something, but then nodded without saying a word. Carla was less subtle. Nestled in Wendy's arms, the cat glared openly at him as he prepared to leave. Did she think he was going to run off and leave them to freeze to death in the snow? He almost laughed at the thought. Bringing them out here was an awful lot of unnecessary effort for him to go to if he really did want them dead.

But as he was about to draw upon his magic, he saw Wendy shiver, and hesitated. He really wasn't going to be gone for long, but then again, this was an unforgiving environment, and the girl was only eleven years old. Though he had told her to wrap up warm, no number of hand-knitted woolly jumpers would be able to match the specialized extreme weather gear recommended for intrepid explorers. With a sigh, he removed the long white coat he had been wearing and draped it around Wendy's shoulders.

She glanced up at him in surprise. It was almost hurtful, how she clearly hadn't been expecting him to do anything kind. "But now you'll be cold," she objected.

Underneath, he was wearing his usual combat gear, designed to minimize loose fabric that an opponent could grab in battle rather than keep in body heat. "I'll be fine," he promised her, folding his bare arms. "For a little while, at least."

He knew she could feel it – the powerful magic surging just beneath his skin, radiating fierce heat and preventing the chill from settling upon his body. As long as he kept a close eye on how much power he had remaining, he had nothing to worry about from an environment such as this. The one advantage of almost freezing to death so many times was that by now, he had a good handle on his own physical limits.

After a moment, Wendy nodded in acceptance. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and drew the coat tightly around her; Carla flittered down to sit in one of the large pockets. Then she looked up at him, with that same warm smile he remembered. "Thank you."

He was trying to remain in a solemn mood for the mission, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing. She was quite a sight, wrapped in that coat that was far taller than she was; a good foot of it trailed out behind her in the snow. Her arms filled perhaps three-quarters of the sleeves, and the excess material dangled comically in front of her. She pouted, but it made her look even cuter, and it only made him laugh more.

"Hurry up and go," she told him stubbornly, and he did so, still grinning as he called upon his magic and launched himself towards the location of the first sentry with a blaze of golden light. He had known bringing her along would be entertaining.

As he had promised, he wasn't gone for long. It was only a couple of minutes later that he landed beside her in a flurry of snow – and most of that time had been spent flying around the valley. The guards hadn't posed a threat to him. The isolation of this cult – their lack of interaction with any enemies – had made them complacent. If no one around here was any stronger than that, this wasn't going to be much fun at all.

"That's the outside guards dealt with," he informed her casually.

"Did you kill them?"

Well, that wasn't the response he had been expecting. He had thought she would be impressed as usual by his power, but this worried reaction was almost as amusing as the blind faith she had showed when she was younger. "Now, Wendy," he chided her, his eyes glittering with dark enjoyment. "Would I do something like that?"

"No," she muttered, but it was evident from the way that she couldn't meet his eyes that the real answer was closer to 'I don't know'.

As it happened, he hadn't killed the guards, but that was mostly because there hadn't been any point. By the time they regained consciousness, the battle would be over. Still, toying with Wendy and observing her reactions was every bit as fun as he had hoped it would be. He remembered the question he had posed to Ultear only a few days ago: how far would he have to go before reality completely crushed any faith she still had in him? She hadn't abandoned him yet, had she?

"That's better. Now, there's a chance the bad guys still haven't worked out that they're under attack, so I think I ought to make it clear to them, don't you?"

Closing his eyes, he began to focus his power. It came to him at once, this magic; all aspects of it working in unison, overcoming their mutual resentment and entwining themselves together for the sake of his desire to wreak great and terrible change upon the world. It had never been so easy. There was a fierce ecstasy ripping through his body; a pride and a glorious arrogance that this power was his alone to command-

Wendy grabbed his outstretched arm. The sudden contact broke his concentration; confused and disorientated, the magic he had been calling tried to lash out towards the cause, and it took all his will to subdue it before it could hurt Wendy. Gasping for breath, and shaking from the strain, he snapped, "Wendy, what are you doing?"

"You can't do that here!" Scared but earnest; that childish determination that didn't know the meaning of fear. "If you destroy the mountain, you'll kill everyone inside…"

It was so sweet, how she cared even for the lives of those who had committed themselves to destroying the world. She should have known better than to try interrupting the casting of a spell like that. If he hadn't reacted in time, she could have died for the sake of her enemies.

And it was more than a little annoying. Magic shimmered in the air around him, unsure of whether to be angry or relieved. Keeping hold of it in that state wouldn't be easy until both he and it had calmed down.

"Look, Wendy. I've studied this geographical region for months. I know the exact layout of the enemy base. I've simulated avalanches and rockslides, and I know exactly where to target this spell in order to bring down the mountain properly. All I'm going to do is cut off all their escape routes. The main body of their base will be untouched, okay?"

It was almost a total lie. The alignment of his spell had been carefully calculated, certainly, but it was to maximize the damage dealt to the hideout and take out as many cultists as possible – how else was he supposed to fight an entire cult of mages on his own? Besides, they weren't just his enemies; they were dark mages, criminals, and a danger to the world. The Council had explicitly authorized him to use lethal force. He wasn't about to let Wendy get in the way of that.

But even if she suspected he was lying, she had no way of proving it without geographical knowledge she didn't have, and when he began invoking the spell again, she didn't try to stop him. Then all awareness of her and his surroundings dropped away as he wove that immense power into the form he required, and unleashed it towards the secret base. Space itself was ripped in two; the mere mountain didn't stand a chance. It was difficult to see the effect of the direct damage of his spell, however, as the entire landscape in front of them immediately began to collapse in on itself.

The great peak, which had ruled over this frozen part of the world since the earth's last great revolution, crumbled and fell; the avalanches, its final death throes, spread the devastation for miles around. Glaciers which had carved out valleys at their own sedate pace for millennia were suddenly launched into overdrive. It was a while before they could hear anything but cataclysmic destruction; it would be hours before the scenery finished acclimatizing to its new position.

It was with no small measure of dismay that Siegrain surveyed the damage he had done. He held up the highly accurate geographical sketch he had made, compared it to the view before him, and shook his head sadly. "It took me months to map this region, and now all my work is worthless…"

Casting that spell had taken a lot from him. He was starting to feel the cold now, as it overcame its fear of his possessive magic and began to encroach upon his body. As soon as he judged that the devastation below had had enough time to settle into a sufficiently stable formation, he said to Wendy, "Time to get down there ourselves, I think."

She gave a brave nod. When he took off again, flying down towards the base of the valley, she and Carla were right behind him. The main entrance to the cult's hideout – as far as he could tell – was a hidden pair of doors set into the back of an ordinary-looking cave in the mountainside. Not wanting to block his way in, he had angled his spell so as to leave that particular face of the structure mostly untouched.

He easily found the cave he was looking for, though it was now several metres lower in elevation than it had been the first time he had scouted it out. It was nothing special to look at: a cavern of sheltered black rock, its ceiling covered in icicles, with snow and ice extending along the floor for a few metres before fading away to reveal an ordinary stone floor. It might have been the den of some great cave bear, or worse, except that he was _inside_ the mountain now. The ageless stone that was so effective at concealing the sense of magic no longer stood between him and the R-System. The moment he entered that cave, when nothing but manmade barriers stood between him and the heart of the system, he knew his guess had been right.

At the back of the cave, someone with a great talent for working stone – or someone with exquisite control over earth magic – had carved a pair of double doors which merged seamlessly with the wall. If Siegrain hadn't already known they were there, he would have struggled to find them, even with his well-honed talent for finding traps and secret doors. He did know, though. The magic in this place, magic which acknowledged him in a way it did not even acknowledge the one who had created this system, told him so. Besides, he did not need to know precisely where the wall ended and the doors began when his method for getting inside mostly involved blasting his way through any barriers with magic.

So he entered the final enemy R-System in an explosion of ice and stone. Beyond the back wall of the cave lay what had once been an impressive entrance hall, until the wrath of Abyss Break had stripped it of its elegance. Many of the pillars had crumbled or slipped sideways or simply snapped in two. A high proportion of the vaulted ceiling had fallen following the destruction of its supports; the elaborate pattern once lovingly carved into it was lost amongst the rubble covering the floor. Cracked statues ringed the room, all designed to kneel towards a sweeping flight of stairs.

Siegrain noticed hardly any of this. His eyes picked out the six cultists in the room with the ruthless accuracy of a hunter. He observed only enough of the environment to be certain it would not hinder him in battle, and then he was in the air once more, traversing the difficult terrain in an instant with magic gathering at both his palms.

The cultists had already been scared. When their hideout had collapsed in on itself, this group of survivors had fled for the main entrance in the hope that it might still be an intact escape route, and they found only death awaiting them. They did not recognize Siegrain. They were far too isolated out here in the mountains to have heard the news about the youngest Wizard Saint's mission. But they knew who he was nonetheless: they knew it from the rumours, which had reached all the dark guilds in this land and beyond; they knew it from the whispered uncertainty the cult's leader had heard in the magic of his R-System, which sang with fear and reverence of a lone man who travelled the world, eradicating all trace of this magic from the earth. When they saw him, they understood that the destruction of their hideout hadn't been a freak earthquake. In that moment, they knew true terror.

Power blazed all around him, a light so bright that his body could not contain it. He took out two opponents before they had even worked out what was going on. A third was saved only because his flight instinct overruled his conscious panic and teleported him just out of Siegrain's reach; he was fortunate indeed that he possessed the only kind of magic which could possibly have saved him in that situation. Now they were beginning to realize that the only chance they had of surviving was to kill Siegrain before he could get to them, and so they joined the fight in earnest.

Although they were far too slow to hit him while he moved at the speed of his magic, Siegrain couldn't help grimacing as he flew. He had hoped to be able to use surprise and intimidation for a little while longer. None of these mages would have been a threat to him alone – he doubted even the leader of the cult would stand a chance against him, the way he was now – but he was just one man, and while his magic would protect him to the best of its ability, it was hardly optimized for defence, and it would only take one lucky hit to put him out of the fight. As long as his opponents outnumbered him, no matter how great the gulf between his skill and their own, the fight would have no predetermined outcome.

But he wasn't fighting alone either. He had said once that he would rather have Wendy at his side on a job like this than an entire unit of Rune Knights, and it was just as true now as it had been then. "Siegrain!" she shouted across the room to him, she and Carla having finally caught up, and though he couldn't risk turning his attention away from his enemies in the middle of battle, he saw her actions in his mind's eye – the way she always closed her eyes to concentrate on her magic; the way she raised her arms in front of her with the grace of a dancer, performing the patterns most pleasing to her magic; the way the shining light rose up around her in a spiral like the gentle wind-

An instant later he felt the power of Wendy's support magic suffusing through his body. It was a simple spell, one loosely designed to raise his speed, but they had fought together often, and his magic and hers merged together perfectly. Her power took over maintaining his evasive motion, allowing him to focus all his own magic down to his fists, and he took out three of his remaining enemies with swift physical blows as he shot by. The last one teleported away at the last moment again, and he narrowed his eyes, preparing to strike him down with a ranged spell the moment he reappeared.

Except the cultist chose to materialize in the one place in the room where he was safe from Siegrain's magic – directly behind Wendy. With her in the line of fire, he froze on the verge of unleashing his power. Seizing the advantage, the cultist unsheathed a small, rune-etched knife and pressed it to the girl's throat.

Now what? Conflicting emotions rose up inside him, but before he could even begin to make sense of them, someone far more decisive than him made their move.

"Let Wendy go!" Carla yelled, flying at her top speed into the nearest pillar. The cracked stone teetered and fell towards Wendy and her captor. Siegrain's eyes widened at the cat's recklessness – he guessed she had hoped the cultist would abandon Wendy and teleport away to safety, and that she would be able to swoop in and drag Wendy out of the way in the nick of time, but…

But it wasn't going to work, because with the kind of teleportation that the cultist was using, the local transportation field would simply bring Wendy along with him when he moved. Siegrain knew this. After all, no one understood magic quite like he did. And that awareness brought with it a sudden clarity of purpose: he was the only one who could save her, and so that was what he would do.

In that instant, he had to find the point in space that the enemy mage was connecting to his present location, and somehow beat him there. The thought that it was an impossible task did not cross his mind for a moment. He pushed his own magic away, forcing it to quieten, trying to ignore Carla's scream of alarm and the pillar falling in slow-motion towards Wendy, trusting his knowledge of magic instead, straining all his senses to detect that brief anomaly in the network of space and time and magic- _there!_

As Wendy and her captor vanished, he burst into action like a pouncing lion. Alone, he would never have made it, but Wendy's magic surged strong through his veins, and it seemed as if the air around him were moving to allow him swift passage. The cultist reappeared in the far corner of the room but Siegrain was there too, ripping the knife straight out of his enemy's hand and sending it spinning across the floor. He wrapped one arm around Wendy, pulling her towards him and out of the startled cultist's grasp.

His free palm went over his enemy's heart. He was perfectly calm; his actions had been governed by the cold rationality that surpassed the unpredictability of an emotional response and ensured that he could achieve his objective in combat. The same could not be said for his magic. This man had tried to harm Wendy; it was furious on his behalf, and he made no attempt to keep it under control. There was an immense explosion of power as his magic burst forth from his hand and tore straight through the other's defenceless body, killing him instantly.

Long after the explosion had died down and silence had returned to the hall, Wendy was still shaking. She was pressed up tightly against him; her shivers reverberated through his entire body. It was unlike her to be so afraid. "It's alright, Wendy," he murmured.

Her voice was little more than a whisper. "Did you have to kill him?"

"Wendy…" His eyes widened momentarily in surprise, and then glimmered with dark appreciation. She wasn't afraid of the danger, but of him. He hadn't even intended to kill that man – though he hadn't exactly tried to keep his magic in check either – and it had undeniably been self-defence. He had done much, much worse, but then she didn't know that, did she? Was that the first time he had killed someone in front of her? He thought it probably was.

And yet she was still clinging to him. Her words weren't an accusation, but a plea for reassurance; a hope that he would tell her it had been necessary and allow her to accept it. What would he have to do to break that faith in him completely?

He was tempted to find out then and there, but she gazed up at him with those terrified and innocent eyes, and he just couldn't. There would be plenty of better chances to show her the truth about who he really was, wouldn't there?

"I told you, didn't I, Wendy?" he asked reproachfully. "If you're in danger, then I will do what I have to do to save you."

"…Yeah." A flicker of normality returned to her gaze. "I guess so. But you also said that you wouldn't come and save me if I was in trouble, and you're not so good at sticking to that."

"I thought you'd figured out years ago that that one was a lie."

"I thought it probably was. You'll always come and save me, won't you?"

"Yes," he promised her, softly. "Always."

A forever that would last only until the mission was over. It wasn't quite a lie. By the end of the day, the man who had made that promise would no longer exist.

Wendy beamed up at him. "And I'll come and save you too!"

"Oh, will you now?"

"Yup! I've been practising with my support magic. I learnt a lot from you, but since you haven't been around for a while, Master Roubaul has been helping me, and Carla has as well."

"You've improved a lot since we last fought together, I'll admit," Siegrain told her with a small smile, thinking about how strong her power had felt to him earlier.

"I've decided I'm going to become a proper mage, you see. Because for the past few months, I didn't know if you were going to come back or not, or if I'd ever be able to go on a mission with you again… and I realized that I don't want to stop. I'm a mage, and I want to use my magic to help people. Whether it's just little jobs, like the ones me and Lahar did last time I was in Era, or if it's catching dark mages and protecting the world like you do for the Council, it's what I want to do. Even if I can't go on missions with you any more, I'm going to get stronger, so that I can protect people by myself."

"That's very admirable of you, Wendy. But if you really are going to become a proper mage, you will have to learn how to fight. You know what that means, don't you?"

"I…"

"You can't protect any of the things you care about in this world if you aren't willing to fight."

"I can fight! That's why I've been practising, and… I want to be a proper mage, like you, I just… I don't want to hurt people."

She gazed up at him imploringly, as if she genuinely thought he knew a way out of that paradox. That adoring light dimmed a little when he shook his head. "Wendy, you need to stop being so kind towards your enemies. Look." He swept his arm around the hall of ruin and shadows they stood in. "If I hadn't got here in time, that man would have killed you. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yeah…"

"These people are criminals. They are here for one purpose only: to create the R-System, a magic which, if used to its full potential, will bring about the end of the world. Everyone you meet inside this mountain desires to destroy everything you hold dear. These people are the bad guys, Wendy, and no one in their right mind would dispute that. And the punishment for the choices they have made is death. Even if I could somehow capture them all and drag them back to Era to stand trial, there would only be one outcome: execution by the state. And because that's logistically impossible, not to mention a great waste of everyone's time and money, I am authorized by the Council right here and now to carry out that sentence. It's how these things have to work. These people knew the risks when they decided to pursue the path of dark magic."

"I know all that," she replied steadily. "I know that they're the bad guys, but… when I see them, I can't help wondering if they might be like you."

"Like… me?"

"You remember when we first met? Back in the forest, when I thought you were Jellal. You were the enemy of the Council, and the Rune Knights almost killed you. But when they talked to you, they realized that you weren't really their enemy, and now you're a Wizard Saint. If they'd just killed you, then you'd never have had the chance to work for the Council, and all the things we've done since then would never have happened…"

"That's different," came his short reply. "It's one thing becoming a dark mage in order to hunt dark mages. It's quite another to commit your whole life to constructing something like the R-System. It is a great and terrible evil, Wendy. No one who has embraced that darkness can ever come back from it."

She protested, "But you can't _know_ that!"

"That's where you're wrong. I am, perhaps, the only person in the entire world who _can_ know that."

"Oh," she said, coming to a sudden understanding. "Because of Jellal. Because you don't think he can be saved."

A faint smile flickered across his face. "Wendy, your very notion of 'saving' Jellal is one that he would find abhorrent."

"I don't think so. I don't think anyone could feel that way."

"Oh, really? You think you could find common ground with the man who could do such a thing to Matthias?"

She chose that moment to step away from him so that she could look at him properly. Concern creased her forehead. "What did he do to Matthias?"

"Oh? You mean you haven't heard?" There was a lilting curiosity to his voice, almost all fake. He knew she hadn't been back to Era since that night several months ago, and with her guild so isolated from the rest of the world, it was hardly a surprise that she didn't know.

"I heard that he had gone missing, and that the Council hasn't heard from him in months…"

"He's dead. Jellal killed him."

"No!" Wendy took another step backwards. "No! He couldn't have done! He wouldn't-! Matthias… he can't be…"

He made no move to console her. Carla glanced between them anxiously, wanting to help but not knowing how.

"Is he…? Really?" When Siegrain didn't deny it, tears filled Wendy's eyes. In a voice that was little more than a whisper, she asked, "What happened?"

"Matthias disobeyed the order of the Council and went to the Tower of Heaven to confront Jellal. He never came back. Jellal lured him into a trap and murdered him."

"No…"

"Are you still going to stand there and tell me that Jellal is a good person, Wendy?"

"I…"

The little girl was shaking far too much to say anything else. There was something about her distraught expression that made his heart race. He wanted to tell her the truth so badly - now, while she was more vulnerable than ever. When she was already in so much pain. He wanted to look her in the eye and tell her that it had all been him-

"Stop it!"

Startled, both Siegrain and Wendy turned to look at Carla. The cat was stood on the ground, but her arms and her wings were fully spread as she shouted at Siegrain. "Stop it, right now! Can't you see how upset she is?"

After a pause, Siegrain gave a small sigh. "Yeah. Sorry, Wendy. I'm going on alone from here."

"No! I'm coming with you!" Hurriedly wiping away her tears, Wendy brushed herself down and tried her best to look fierce – to look as if she hadn't just been coldly told that one of her closest friends was dead.

His response was firm. "No, you're not. You and Carla are going to wait here until I'm done."

"No!" she shouted again. "I can fight! I can help you!"

"As you are now, Wendy, you're only going to get in my way." He shook his head angrily. "This was a mistake. Ultear was right; I never should have brought you here."

She let out a great shuddering breath. "I… I'm sorry. I don't want to be a liability to you. I just… I… I'll wait here. Just, please, be careful."

"I will." He dropped his hand onto the top of her head with a light, affectionate thump. "You're a good girl, Wendy. I'm sorry you had to hear about Matthias like that. I thought you already knew."

Nodding once, she met his gaze and tried to smile, but she did not know how to deal with so much sadness; it came out all wrong. The important thing to him, though, was that it showed she had accepted his apology. It meant she would do what he said for the time being – that he could count on her not to do anything stupid.

Wendy and Carla had carried his backpack down with them when they had followed him into the base, and left it at the entrance so that they could join the fight. Siegrain strode over to retrieve it and handed it to Wendy. "I don't know how long I'll be, so I'll leave this with you. There are blankets in there, and food, and everything you would need to make a small fire."

She gave a solemn nod. He knew she was more than capable of taking care of little tasks like that. He had taught her himself, after all.

He continued, "If an enemy comes, don't hang around, and certainly don't try to fight – I might be too far away to come and help. The cave exit is still open, so you should be able to get away. Once you're outside, though, don't wait for me. You won't last long out in that environment on your own. There are maps in the pack, and money, so you should be able to find your way to the nearest village, and I'll come and find you as soon as I can. Alright?"

He saw her open her mouth to begin some childish protest about not wanting to abandon him, so he cut her off prematurely. "Carla – you're the sensible one, so I'm leaving you in charge. If there's danger, make sure Wendy gets away, and doesn't try to stay and fight or anything like that which is only going to get her killed."

"I'll look after her," the cat promised.

Wendy objected, with a touch of her old defiance back in her eyes, "Hey! I'm sensible too! If you think it's best for me to leave you, then I will!"

"Good." He waved at her over his shoulder as he strode deeper into the buried R-System. "I'm glad you were finally able to see things my way."

She folded her arms, pouting – and then her eyes suddenly widened as she realized what he had said. "Siegrain, wait!" she yelled after him. "That's not what I meant!"

But he was already gone.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Gah. Their relationship is such a mess right now. Neither of them knows how to act around the other, and it's horrible. On the plus side, geography is fun. ~CS_


	26. What Remains When Night Has Fallen

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-What Remains When Night Has Fallen-**

He was like a god in that place.

The first time he had entered a foreign R-System, it was as an enemy. The latent magic swirling through that place had recognized him, but not acknowledged him; it had known him, and he it, but he was there to destroy those who were working to further its power and influence, and so it had opposed him. When he had tried to seize control of it, it had rejected him, and at the very end of the fight, it had sacrificed itself in order to manifest as an enormous creature of hatred in one final attempt to destroy him.

This time, things could not have been more different. To the magic beneath the mountain, he was no mere intruder, nor even the master of a fellow but rival system. No – it reached out to him in welcome. This vast, ancient magic, incomprehensible to the mind of a single man, had chosen him to be its messiah. He was the one who had demolished the other systems; who had defeated almost all the other chosen ones. His system alone was the one that would survive to completion.

The cults were rivals, competing to be the one who would bring the R-System magic into the world, but they were all driven by the same desire – to reach their god – and guided by the same transcendental power; and that power, that desire given agency by magic that defied comprehension, had come to realize that he out of all the potential candidates was going to fulfil its purpose. He had proven himself far above the others. And so the magic permeating this R-System, which had been nurtured and shaped and guided for years by the leader of this cult, responded to the call of a higher power, and abandoned its former master to serve at his command.

As he walked through that place, down corridors that might have been magnificent before he had torn the mountain in two, that magic came to him. Like a trickle, and then like a flood, it poured into him, replenishing the energy that casting Abyss Break had taken from him and more. His physical body could not contain it and it swirled around him, a loving caress of shadows. Turbulent eddies of darkness danced at his fingertips. As he became attuned to the otherworldly currents flowing through the tunnels, he no longer needed his mundane senses; he knew the location and physical condition of every single mage still alive inside the mountain. The magic told him everything.

The moment Wendy had left his line of sight he had forgotten all about her; there was nothing here to hold him back. This place lent him its strength, and he merged it with the darkness sealed within him and set that cruel power free. It raged rampant through the crumbling corridors, making monsters of the shadows; infusing them with a twisted parody of life. They wrapped around him adoringly, shielding him from danger with their bodies and striking out at those who sought to harm him. He did not even need to command them: so great was his power now, and so strong his resonance with it, that the magic all around him moved to carry out his will of its own accord.

It was so easy to kill with this dark magic. After all, this was the power that once, long ago, had belonged to a man who had brought about a reign of death and terror; a primal, vicious, ravenous magic, born from the base desire of mankind. Those who fought him were so much weaker than him that they deserved to die just for that. The cultists he encountered here, terrified and wounded from the cave-in; aware that there was an intruder but lacking the willpower or the leadership to muster any kind of real opposition to him; their own magic so weak that it shied away from him and refused to come at their call if it meant fighting against him – to them he was a vengeful god cloaked in shadows; destruction made incarnate; a demon who might once have walked at Zeref's side.

It did not occur to a single one of them, as he swept through their lair leaving total obliteration in his wake, that he was an agent of the Council, there to eliminate the danger the R-System posed to the innocent, law-abiding citizens of the kingdom. He simply was not. Siegrain did not exist in that place. In that moment, all pretence was stripped away, and his true self lay bare. He was the one who had murdered his friend in cold blood; he was the one who had infiltrated the Council in order to bring them down from the inside; he was the one who had betrayed the only woman he had ever loved and lied to the only girl who trusted him; he was Jellal, the Master of the Tower, a god of death in this place of nightmares, and he was going to watch this pathetic world burn.

* * *

He did not know how long he spent in that place. Deep underground, wrapped up in the embrace of that power, time was one of the many mundane things which had ceased to have any meaning for him.

When he returned at last to the entrance hall, Wendy was still there; still waiting for him faithfully. She and Carla were sat behind a small fire she had made, close to one of the walls of the room, so that he saw the two of them as black silhouettes through the leaping golden flames. As always, she registered his presence immediately and jumped to her feet, shouting his name with a joy that rapidly turned to horror.

It was not difficult to guess at the source of her alarm. Dizzy and light-headed, he swayed as he walked, drunk on the afterglow of that magic. All the active power in that place – enough, as far as he could tell, to kick-start an entire R-System – had been drawn from its reservoir and passed through his body before he had finally destroyed the source at the heart of the hideout. Before that day, he would have declared it impossible for a human being to survive such a sustained encounter with the raw, ecstatic light of magic; even now, some detached part of his mind looked at the boring, solid world and wondered if it would ever seem real to him again, now that he had lived and breathed that divine light.

"Siegrain!" Wendy shouted again, and her voice resonated with something deep within him; dragged him back, just a little, to the world in which she lived. She skidded to a stop in front of him, looking up at him with worry. "Are you hurt?"

"No." He shook his head. Even that small motion was enough to set his vision spinning.

"Yes you are!" she objected ferociously. "Look at you!"

Without giving him a chance to stop her, she pressed both her palms against his chest. He could barely sense the magic she sent flowing into him; after being immersed in the torrent of the R-System's power, his sensitivity to magic had dropped alarmingly. Yet her gift was no less powerful for his unawareness, seeking out all the damage done to his body and working as hard as it could to undo it. She healed wounds he had not even been aware that he had taken while lost in the rapture of that power.

And as more and more strength began to return to his limbs – the normal energy governing the development of the human body, rather than the divine power of magic that did not belong to him – and the world he saw began to gradually settle back into place and resume its usual boring three dimensions, he realized with growing alarm just how close to death he had been. No mortal man was supposed to wield power like that. The dizziness he felt had been as much from blood loss and the gradual shutdown of his physical body as it had been from the lingering ecstasy of being one with that magic. If he had continued, it would surely have killed him; if not for Wendy, he would likely have collapsed in this place and never woken again.

By the time Wendy fell against him, having – once again – expended far too much power healing all the non-life-threatening wounds as well as the serious ones, he had enough control of his body back to catch her and support her until she could regain her balance. She beamed up at him, exhausted but pleased that he had returned to her alive. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy. Tired. But mostly okay, thanks to you." He glanced around for the exit; he didn't want to linger in this place for any longer than he had to. He needed to return to the Council. "I've destroyed the core of the system, so we're done here. We should leave as quickly as possible."

"We can't," Wendy told him, with an apologetic shrug. "There's a blizzard going on outside. It's dark and dangerous and cold. Very cold."

Frowning, he went to stand at the mouth of the cave, where they had first entered the hideout. Wendy was right. The air was thick with swirling snow. Vicious roaring winds ripped at his hair and clothes, even though he was still mostly sheltered by the cave. The portentous grey clouds were thick enough to conceal almost all the sun's light, but even were it not for the darkness, the snow and sleet and hail dragged along by the storm winds reduced visibility to dangerously low levels on their own. He could probably have powered through the storm – certainly he had done so before; it wasn't the first sudden blizzard he had encountered while mapping out the local mountain region – but he wasn't sure he could do so safely while carrying Wendy, and he doubted Carla would be able to keep up with him under those conditions.

Besides, though he was feeling a lot stronger now than he was a few minutes ago, he was still in quite a state. The simple fact that he was shivering as he surveyed the snowy wasteland told him that his magic wasn't working as it should have been. Though his internal source had barely been depleted at all, him having used the borrowed power of the enemy R-System rather than his own, it was slow to respond to his touch: sluggish, like a lizard in the cold; sedate; drugged, even. It was unsurprising, given its prolonged exposure to that raw flood of energy. Wendy's magic couldn't restore his own. Until it was working normally again, travel through that environment would be even more dangerous.

Alone, he might have taken his chances with the blizzard, but he couldn't risk it when Wendy and Carla were with him too. He had promised he would keep them safe on this mission. With a soft sigh, he returned to the room where the girls were waiting.

Wendy had built a decent fire. He had to give her credit for that. She and Carla were huddled up next to it, though as usual, the minute she saw him return to the room she jumped up and dashed over to him. "What's the plan?"

"We're going to wait. We're safe here, and I think the blizzard should settle down in a few hours."

He had expected her to be dismayed by the news – surely she did not want to stay in this place of death and destruction and dark corrupting magic for any longer than necessary – but in the time they had been apart, he had clearly forgotten her limitless ability to make the best out of a bad situation. "Yay! It'll be like a sleepover! We can toast marshmallows!"

"Toast… marshmallows?"

"Yup! We found some in your bag. Me and Carla really _really_ wanted to eat them, but we thought we probably shouldn't open them without asking you first - but you're here now, so we can all toast them over the fire!"

"I… packed marshmallows?" He sounded slightly baffled by his own choice of provisions.

"Big white fluffy ones! Because you knew I liked them, right?"

In all likelihood, she was right – he had probably seen them and thought of her, without consciously realizing what he was doing. He had come to this place to unleash utter devastation upon the last of his enemies, and he had brought marshmallows with him? He burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. It was a mocking sound; sharp and bitter. Startled, Wendy backed away from him, not fully understanding, unable to stop the fear from rearing up again in her eyes.

She was doing her best, wasn't she? Trying to pretend that everything was normal, for Carla's sake, or maybe even for his. Acting like their last ever mission together was going to be fun. Of course, he and Wendy had very different ideas of what 'fun' meant. For her, it was the little things, like toasting marshmallows over a campfire with her friends. For him… an echo of walking as a god under the mountain flashed through his mind, and his breath caught in his throat; an electric shiver ran down his spine.

Trying to make his voice sound normal, and knowing that it did not, he offered, "You and Carla can eat the marshmallows. I don't really like them anyway."

She shook her head. "If you're not having them, then I won't either."

"Suit yourself."

Without the usual warmth of his magic in his veins, and especially since Wendy was still wearing his coat, he was beginning to feel the chill seeping through the stones. He sat down next to the fire, with his back against the rough wall. Wendy settled herself down beside him, but she did not touch him. Before, she would have had no reservations about jumping into his lap or snuggling up next to him in search of warmth like an adorable little puppy, but today, without a word of explanation, she kept her distance. That inch or two of frigid air between them might as well have been a wall of iron.

They stared into the fire without speaking. Wendy did not ask him what had transpired in the cult's hideout, and he found himself wondering how much of it she had already guessed. What had the flow of the R-System's magic through those tunnels told her? What had she deduced from his state when he had returned to her?

Enough to know that things between them were never going to go back to the way they were before.

Enough, hopefully, to accept that this really was to be their final meeting.

"Wendy," Siegrain said, quietly, and with grave finality. "I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"That after today, you won't come looking for me ever again."

"No."

"…No?" He looked at her in surprise. Afterimages from the fire danced in his vision, superimposed over the image of a girl both upset and determined; both afraid and resolute.

"I won't promise you that," she reiterated. "I don't want to say goodbye. I want to see you again. You're my best friend, and I'm not just going to let you leave like that!"

"Look, Wendy…" he tried, but to no avail.

"Everyone always left me. My mother disappeared, and then Jellal left me behind, and you – you were the first person who stayed. And I don't want to be alone again… but I also don't want you to be left alone, either. You're pushing people away, and if you keep doing that, you're going to end up sad, just like I was. I know what it's like to be abandoned, and that's why I won't leave you."

"I don't have time to spend with a child, Wendy!" he snapped. "After this mission, I'm joining the Magic Council. There are things I have to do; big things, important things, like you couldn't even imagine. You cannot come with me!"

"I know that you're going to be busy. The Council needs you; the whole magical world needs you. I know we can't go on missions together any more. But why should that mean we can never see each other? I'll come by and visit you."

"You can't-"

"I will!" she retorted, as defiant as ever. "I'll come to Era on the first day of every month. I'll wait for you outside the Council Headquarters. Then you'll know where I am, and you can come and say hello on your way home, so it won't take up much of your day. And the rest of the time, I'll work really hard around my guild, and improve my skills as a mage, so that I can earn the money for the train tickets myself, and then we can go and do things together when you're free-"

"Wendy!" he shouted. Desperation lent an authoritative snap to his voice; she fell silent immediately. "I don't want to see you ever again! What about that don't you understand?"

She just shook her head, not dignifying that with a verbal response.

With a drawn-out sigh, he changed tack. "You should stay away from me, Wendy. I am not a good man."

"I believe that you are a good man." As calm as ever. "I don't care what you say."

"Then tell me this, Wendy. What does my magic look like to you?"

She blinked up at him in that wonderful, curious way of hers. It wasn't that she didn't understand the question, but that she couldn't work out why he had suddenly changed the topic. "You asked me that before," she pointed out.

"Yes, I did. And now I'm asking you again. I want to know if your answer has changed."

"You mean, if I can sense something different…?"

"If my magic has changed. If it has made up its mind yet."

There was silence, broken only by the occasional pop from the fire. She stared at him for a long moment. "It feels funny at the moment. Asleep, maybe."

"Yes. Because I exposed it for too long to the power of the R-System, and it'll be a while before it recovers. But you're avoiding the question, Wendy."

"No."

"What?"

"No, it hasn't changed."

"…What do you mean, it hasn't changed?"

"It looks the same as it always has, to me. There's the secret magic that you hide from people, sealed so tightly that I can hardly sense it if you're not using it, even when I'm looking for it. And there's your normal magic. Not black or white, not either, but brighter than anyone else I've ever seen."

Memories flashed through his mind: murdering the assassin who had come for him in the Tower; blowing apart the cultist who had dared to lay a finger upon the girl he was protecting; a baptism of death and magic in the halls below the mountain. This time, remembering the latter did not evoke the same feeling of excitement it had the first time – only a faint sense that something was missing. He had a strange feeling that it might have had something to do with marshmallows.

"I don't understand," he whispered.

"What is there not to understand?" she inquired, genuinely perplexed. "It's your magic. It's you. It can't possibly change."

As if to emphasize her point, she wriggled under his arm and rested her head against his chest. He could feel her heartbeat stronger than he could his own; he put his arm around her without thinking. She said, by way of explanation, "It's cold, and I'm kind of tired. You don't mind, right?"

Thinking about her tendency to overuse her magic, and the inevitable exhaustion that came with it, he shook his head. "You can sleep. I'll wake you up when the blizzard has died down."

She purred something that might have been a word of thanks or might just have been a happy little noise, and it didn't take long before she was sound asleep. Carla had long since decided resting was the way forward; she was curled up in front of the fire, her little body rising and falling peacefully. In the ancient, frozen hall, with the snowstorm raging outside, they needed all the warmth they could get.

He wanted to sleep too. The same lethargy that had stolen control of his magic from him also desired to steal his consciousness. If he were alone, he probably would have slept until his magic had recovered, but there could still be enemies lurking about – he hadn't killed _all_ of them – and the cold would be a very real threat if the fire burnt out. He couldn't endanger the girls like that. So he stayed awake, and kept a careful watch on the shadows, and listened to the storm beating against the outside of the mountain and the crackling of the fire and Wendy's soft heartbeat.

His thoughts always returned to her. She was a problem. He couldn't change the fact that she knew too much, and thus would always be a danger to him: a timebomb just waiting to explode. That had almost happened nine months ago; a catastrophe from which he had only narrowly been able to escape. If she would just listen to him and leave, then he could break off all contact with her, and she would no longer be a threat, and she could happily live out the rest of her days with her guild until the world ended. If she kept refusing to leave him, no matter how close she came to seeing his true self… then there really was only one option. Ultear was right, and Wendy had to die.

It would be so easy. Her magic was strong and courageous, but it was also young and naïve, just like its wielder. It would do its best to protect her, but it wouldn't be enough, not against him. She was so small, so fragile, so vulnerable; he could snap her neck with his bare hands. So quick, and so easy. He could do it from where they sat. He wouldn't even need to move. In his mind's eye, he could see himself doing it, one swift motion and then it would all be over-

As if he would _ever_ do a thing like that. He held her a little more tightly; a little more protectively. She mumbled something, but didn't wake up.

He spoke to her, knowing that she could not hear him; the last words of a good man. "We can't go on like this, Wendy. You're tearing me apart. If we ever meet again, I'll have to kill you, so please… Please, stay away from me. Please… don't make me…"

Once again she stirred and did not wake, and he held her close. "But not today. Just for today, I will protect you with everything that I am. Let me be your friend for just a little longer."

* * *

The blizzard died away, and with it, the phase of his life that Siegrain had spent as Wendy's best friend came to an end. He and the girl were always going to have to say goodbye at one point or another. She had walked beside him on this path for a little while, never stopping to question where it was taking them, and she had always made things a little brighter, but from here on out, he was going on alone.

Ever since the date of their final mission together had been decided, he had imagined the moment of their parting over and over again in his mind. He had envisioned himself breaking her spirit – for how else could such a partnership of lies and deception possibly end? He had wanted to revel in her tears as she finally understood the truth about the man she had trusted for so long; her sorrow when she learned that everything they had done together had been a lie; her grief, as she lost faith in everything she had once loved, just as Lahar had done… but now that the time had finally come, he found that he simply could not do it.

Yes, there was that small rational voice in the back of his mind telling him that just because her village was isolated didn't mean she was incapable of hopping on a train and going to report to the Rune Knights, and that telling her the truth about who he was would have been a very stupid thing to do – but that was no reason for him to keep _everything_ about his true nature hidden. He just could not bring himself to go through with it.

It was better that they parted with her believing what she wished of him, and then, when the girl was gone for good from his life, he would he be free to do what he liked and become the person he wanted to be at last. It was safer that way, so he told himself – perhaps as an explanation, or perhaps as an excuse.

After gently shaking Wendy and Carla awake, he packed up the supplies he had brought with him and the three of them headed back towards an inhabited region of the mountains. Siegrain led the way. Between the destruction of the mountain, the subsequent avalanches, the fading blizzard, and the sinking of the sun, the landscape had changed beyond recognition, but the girls were still in his care, and he guided them unerringly to the nearest village. By the time they arrived, night had well and truly fallen, so they took refuge there as the temperature plummeted, and all three of them, exhausted from the travelling and excessive use of magic, fell asleep immediately.

When morning came, the three of them returned to Cait Shelter. The going for this part of the journey was far easier, and Wendy, having rested, was much livelier; she chattered on inanely for almost the entire walk, not noticing – or perhaps just not caring – that his thoughts were far away. The closer they got to her guild, however, the more subdued she became. The last five minutes of their journey were undertaken in absolute silence. She could no longer pretend to herself that this wasn't the end of their partnership.

As for Siegrain, he was just grateful for the peace and quiet. If that was all it took to get her to stop talking – well, he should have thought of that trick years ago.

They arrived to find Cait Shelter as unusually silent as Wendy was. There wasn't a single person in sight as they entered the village. Roubaul knew that this was Wendy's last mission with him; Siegrain thought it was awfully considerate of the old man to give them some privacy for their farewell.

Wendy stopped in the centre of the village, with Carla floating at her shoulder, and then she slowly turned to look at Siegrain. "You'll come back, right?" she asked hopefully.

He gave a firm shake of his head. "No. This is where we say goodbye, Wendy."

"But _why?_ " That one word was long, drawn-out, desperate. "I don't understand…"

"You will, one day." He placed his hands on her shoulders.

"But I want to spend more time with you! I want to go on adventures and catch bad guys and practise with magic and go exploring and do all the fun things that we used to do together…"

"Where I'm going, Wendy, you can't come with me."

She looked up at him blankly. "To the Council?"

"Yeah. That's right. I'm going to join the Council, and like I said, I won't have time for adventures any more. I'll have to do important things for the sake of the kingdom, and I'll be really busy."

"But even if you don't have time to do fun things any more, I can still _see_ you, right? I'll come and visit you so you don't have to come all the way to the guild. I'll come by on the first day of every month-"

Siegrain found himself frowning at her words. That was twice she had said that now, and, knowing that girl and her childish resolve, it was just the sort of thing she would do. He made a mental note to find an excuse to be absent from Era at the start of each month. He could never be too careful.

She caught an inkling of his thought process from the expression on his face and said, sadly, "You really are leaving me, aren't you? Just like my mother… just like Jellal… and now you're leaving as well."

"Yeah. There are things I have to do. I'm sure that you'll be able to make some friends your own age, and-"

" _You're_ my friend, Siegrain!" she interrupted him stubbornly. "You're my best friend!" And, throwing caution to the wind, she wrapped her arms tightly around his leg and refused to let go.

He gave a sigh. "Come on, Wendy. Let go."

To his dismay, her only response was to shake her head and cling on more tightly. "I'm not going to let you go!"

"Seriously, Wendy, I thought you were more mature than this. You're acting like a spoilt kid, not a guild mage."

When that didn't work, he gave her a gentle shake with his hand, trying to dislodge her, but to no avail. This time, his sigh was tinged with annoyance. He had important things to be getting on with. Besides, he had expected her to be sad, but this childish stubbornness was simply frustrating. He had thought she was better than this.

Then again, when had he forgotten he was dealing with a child here? If he didn't have places to be, it might have been a little endearing. He remembered how adorable she had been the first time they met – her blind faith in him; her obedience; her sweet, trusting smile – and he felt once again that temptation to keep her: to lie to her, to find the limits of her trust, to break her…

But, somehow, it just wouldn't have been right. He was terminating their association now, before that could happen; he was letting this part of his life come to a natural end without destroying it.

So he drew his magic to him and let it flow like liquid darkness through his body, prodding Wendy's acute senses with it – nothing that would hurt her, just enough to make her reflexively recoil from the power she disliked so much. Sure enough, her grip loosened, allowing him to pull his leg free. She gazed up at him sadly.

"You'll be alright, Wendy," he told her. "You will." And with that, he raised his hand in farewell, and began walking back towards the forest.

To his relief, she didn't try to chase after him, though she did shout his name just as he reached the trees. Against his better judgement, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

The girl was stood in the entrance to her village, her hands clasped together in front of her, watching his every move with imploring eyes, while the wind played with her hair and rustled the hem of her dress. "Aren't you going to say it?"

"Say what?" he asked.

" _We'll meet again."_

The soft words reached him as a whisper on the wind. He had a vague recollection that they were important to her; something someone else had said, perhaps, a long time ago.

But it was nothing to do with him. "Why would I say something like that? I sincerely hope that we never meet again, Wendy."

And with that he walked away.

* * *

It did occur to Siegrain, as he sat on the train watching the countryside roll by on his way back to Era, that he had perhaps been a little overconfident in telling Ultear and then Wendy that he was certainly going to join the Magic Council at the end of the final R-System mission. Nothing was set in stone, after all. He had worked so incredibly hard towards this end for the past three and a half years, and he had been so careful, and everything was in place – but his final farewell to Wendy had left him feeling slightly restless in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. Even though she was gone for good, the fact that he had been unable to bring himself to completely break her trust in him bothered him. Plus, his magic was still not quite back to normal, and although he had no reason to expect an attack – and even in this state, he could fight as well as most mages – he could have done with the feeling of security and confidence that his power brought him right now.

In the absence of his usual certainty, there was room for all manner of doubts to creep in. What if he hadn't done enough? It was almost unheard of for someone his age to join the Council. It was just as abnormal to have such a young Wizard Saint, of course, but that was a title earned through magical ability alone, whereas joining the Council required a completely different kind of power. If he hadn't got everything exactly right, it would be easy for one of his opponents to use his inexperience as an excuse to block his accession to the Council. And if that was delayed…

Well, he wasn't worried that they would learn the truth about the Tower any time soon. But wasn't it only to be expected that he wanted to execute his plan as quickly as possible? He tired of those fools on the Council, and the role he had to play for them, and the world they tried so pointlessly to protect. He wanted to see them all burn. And if he had miscalculated; if he had failed to account for something and his plan was pushed back…

So he entered the official chamber to report to the Council in a state of uncharacteristic trepidation – a trepidation that was almost immediately eased by the fact that there were only nine councillors in the room. A quick glance confirmed that Byron was indeed the one absent. He had given up; was conceding this victory to Siegrain and stepping down without a fight. It was a cowardly move, but Siegrain was hardly about to judge him for it, when it was unequivocally the right decision for the councillor to have made. He himself would always choose to put self-preservation over one last defiant stand – when he was thinking rationally, of course.

There was nothing unusual about the mission debriefing. They asked him the normal questions, and he answered them calmly and dutifully; he had had plenty of time to come up with a convincing story during the train journey. There was no need to tell them about Wendy's involvement, or of precisely how he had channelled the R-System's power through his body to massacre the cult which had been based there. Not even to Ultear was he about to reveal that little detail.

And as he answered queries about the nature of the system and the information he had recovered from the now-disbanded cult, he felt a rising elation in his chest. His worries had collapsed into relief, and as his victory became more and more evident, satisfaction swiftly grew into a dark, proud excitement. His heartbeat quickened. It was fortunate that his magic was still responding somewhat sluggishly; he doubted he would have been able to fully keep it suppressed if it had ignited his triumph with its usual wildfire ecstasy. Everything he had worked for was finally within his grasp.

"Good, good." The Chairman tapped his fingers on the desk in front of him. "Impeccable work, as always, Siegrain."

"I'm just glad I could be of some help."

"Indeed. And now we reach the most important matter. How certain are you that the R-System you destroyed in the mountains was the last one?"

He replied smoothly, with perfect confidence. "I would stake my life on it."

"There is far more than just your life at stake here, Siegrain. If but one operational system remains in the world, it isn't just the moral fabric of our society that is in danger, but the lives of every man, woman and child in the kingdom – no, on the entire continent."

"I am well aware of that," came his cool response; his knowing smile. "All the evidence I have found – evidence which has been cross-checked by the specialists in Byron's department – points to the fact that the original dark cult split into seven factions when they were discovered ten years ago. During the time I have been hunting those seven factions, we have not found the slightest trace of R-System activity that does not belong to one of those groups. I am certain that no trace of the original cult remains on the continent."

That wasn't a lie – he had ensured that no information concerning the existence of his own R-System had been discovered during their search, and he certainly had no ties to the original cult. Their R-System was his now, and he did things his own way.

Still, the Chairman frowned. "Recently, of course, your mission – and your outstanding success in completing it – has attracted a great deal of attention. Might it be possible that a new rebel group has discovered information about the R-Systems?"

"We can't completely rule out that possibility. However, as I said, I am certain that that is not the case. All the information pertaining to the R-Systems – certainly anything detailing their construction, activation, or the exact mechanics of the dark magic they summon – has either been destroyed by my own hand, or else is now in the Council's or my possession. Of course, we will go forward with our eyes wide open for any signs that R-System activity is resuming once more, but it is my firm belief that this threat to our world has at last been eliminated."

There was an appreciative murmur from the councillors. The Chairman nodded slowly. "That is also our belief, though it is indeed reassuring to hear it from you. After all, you're the one who has almost single-handedly prevented this threat, and that is no mean feat. No one can deny that the entire world is in your debt. Without your knowledge, your abilities, and your leadership in this matter, we might now be facing one of the worst crises ever to threaten this world."

Siegrain said nothing. He just waited, with his eager anticipation expertly concealed behind a mask of calm control.

The Chairman continued, "As you have undoubtedly noticed, Councillor Byron stepped down from his post earlier this morning to take early retirement. There is currently no one in charge of his department, and his seat on the Council is vacant. The nine of us are in unanimous agreement-" Here the old man cast a sideways glance at Melchior, but as he had done for the entire of the meeting, Melchior stared at his hands and did not react "-that the best person to succeed him is you. Though young, you have proven yourself on countless occasions, and the resounding success of the R-System mission shows that you are more than capable of dealing with anything that might present itself to Byron's successor."

The Chairman permitted himself a small grin. "And to be perfectly frank, Siegrain, we wouldn't feel safe leaving the seat in anyone's hands but yours. We need you. So, do you accept? Will you join the Magic Council?"

Siegrain, too, felt the overwhelming urge to grin. He was the enemy of the Council. He had killed many people, not all of them criminals, and not always in the Council's name. He was, himself, a dark mage. He had mastered forbidden magic, and he used it freely, regardless of the devastation it caused. He was Jellal, the Master of the Tower; he was the one who was going to bring ruin to the world. And now he was also a member of the Magic Council. The final piece of his plan was, after three and a half long years, at last in his grasp.

He would later consider the fact that he was able to reply to the Chairman with a straight face the greatest achievement of his life to date. "It would be an honour."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Well, it took a bit of a roundabout route, but we're finally there. Jellal's on the Council, and there is nothing standing between him and the Tower of Heaven. Not long now... ~CS_


	27. Ascension

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Ascension-**

Siegrain was barely able to suppress his exultation as he left the Council chamber. He wanted to burst into gleeful, maniacal laughter – but there was a time and a place, and it wasn't too late for the Council to retract their decision if they were given reason to suspect that he might, in fact, be insane. The sensible thing to do would be to fly at once to the Tower and gloat to his heart's content there, and bathe in that great and terrible magic which had just taken one step closer to activation.

And, faced with his own overwhelming emotions, he almost did. The only thing that held him back was the thought that he was not yet done here. There was more that he could achieve – an even greater victory than this, if he were willing to take the gamble. He had set everything up in advance, of course, assembling all the pieces just in case he had wanted to use them at a later date, but it had been more of a game than a scheme; instinctively keeping as many options open as possible. He hadn't really intended to go through with it unless it proved necessary, and it certainly wasn't necessary now that he had been officially offered a seat on the Council, but…

There had been hardly any risk involved in him joining the Magic Council, and there would be a _lot_ of risk involved in this move, but it would not have been much of an exaggeration to say that in that moment, he felt like he could do anything. So rather than allowing himself to celebrate, he became once more the perfect picture of a meek, respectful servant of the Council, and he took a seat outside the chamber, and waited.

It was quite some time before the other councillors completed their remaining orders of business. They left the room one by one, at irregular intervals; Siegrain watched them with his usual care as he feigned bored inattentiveness. Only when he was certain that the Chairman was the only one remaining in the chamber did he get to his feet, stretch, take a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart, and knock on the door. After waiting politely for the response permitting him to enter, he did so, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Siegrain? What's going on?" inquired the Chairman.

"There's something that I need to talk to you about, as a matter of urgency."

There was exasperation in the old man's eyes; no doubt he had been hoping that he was done with all the difficult jobs for the day. "Why did you not bring this up during the meeting?"

"I'm afraid it concerns another member of the Council, and as such, I felt that you ought to hear the full story in private first, and guide me on how best to proceed."

"Very well." The Chairman sat back down at the long table, indicating that the young man should do the same. This room was normally filled with the sound of lively debate and heated arguments; with just the two of them, it seemed instead to abound with shadows.

"Along with the other artefacts and documents I have already turned over to the Council, I found this letter in the possession of the cult's leader." He retrieved a battered envelope from his pocket and handed it to the Chairman, watching the old man's expression closely as he began to read.

After a few minutes of silent scrutiny, the Chairman gave a grunt. "And what, exactly, am I supposed to make of this, Siegrain?" he demanded. It was almost a challenge.

Calmly, Siegrain replied, "I can tell you what I made of it. It appears, to all extents and purposes, to be a letter from an unnamed member of the Magic Council to the cult in possession of the R-System, advising them on how to conceal the system's magic from anyone entering their lair – in other words, from me. It's a very naïve assessment of how I would go about finding an R-System's magic, and the precautions it lists would certainly not have made a difference, but that's quite beside the point. It seems to suggest that there is someone on the Council itself who would rather see me fail than eliminate the R-System threat."

The Chairman frowned and said nothing; the other took his silence as an indication that he should continue with his explanation. "From the language used and the knowledgeable way in which certain branches of dark magic are referenced, I think we are supposed to assume that the author of this letter was Councillor Byron. After all, he was the only one with something to gain if I failed to locate or destroy the final R-System. In addition, within the inner chambers of the cult's hideout, I found this." He placed a small pocket watch on the table between the two of them; the one Ultear had puzzled over in his office a few days earlier. "It matches the description of the one Byron recently reported as missing. If you asked him, I doubt he would deny it was his. In fact, I imagine he'd be rather pleased to get it back."

Rather than moving to pick up the watch, the Chairman simply stared at Siegrain, his frown deepening. "This all seems far too obvious, Siegrain. If you intend to bring allegations this severe against a former Councillor-"

"Ah, don't misunderstand me. You see, I also think it is too obvious. It looks to me like this has been set up so that we jump to conclusions and accuse Byron. There's a lot here that just doesn't add up. Take the watch, for example. If he had given it to the cult's leader as a show of good faith, then why would he report it as stolen? Or are we to assume that he dropped it while visiting the R-System, and that this incriminating possibility didn't occur to him when he later found it missing? Because with all possible respect, I refuse to believe that Byron could have made it inside that hideout without being killed by the weather or the cultists themselves."

Siegrain tapped the table impatiently, continuing, "It all seems far too suspicious. And, more importantly than that, I find the contents of the letter difficult to swallow. Byron was…" There was a pause, as he searched for words that wouldn't offend. "The Councillor was not the best suited to stopping the R-System project, but he was loyal to the Council, and to the citizens he was sworn to protect. The Byron I know would gladly have given up his seat on the Council in return for the elimination of that criminal cult. He would never risk allowing that magic to exist unchecked just to spite me. I agree completely with your initial assessment: taken at face value, the letter simply doesn't make any sense."

"You already have an explanation for all this, don't you?" It was a rhetorical question. The Chairman's sharp eyes danced to Siegrain and then back down at the letter.

Inclining his head, the young Wizard Saint replied, "I had a lot of time to think about it on the way back from the raid. The most obvious explanation to me is that someone is trying to frame Byron – or at least put him into a position where he would be forced to step down after the mission, whether or not he wanted to."

"And you think it was another member of the Council."

"The long-standing feud between Councillor Byron and Councillor Melchior springs to mind."

After another long silence, the Chairman informed him, "I understand your suspicions, but without any proof, this is mere conjecture – conjecture against one with whom, if I dare say so, Siegrain, you are also known to share a mutual animosity."

"You're right, I have no proof," came the steady response. "However, I would not have raised my suspicions with you unless I knew of a simple way in which, if I am correct, I can easily be proven right."

"Do explain."

Siegrain took a deep breath. "A couple of weeks ago, Councillor Melchior made a trip to the mountainous region where I had already narrowed down the location of the final R-System to be. Since he often goes on skiing holidays, and has done for his entire life, it wouldn't have come across as suspicious to any of us. Now, the cult that I defeated under the mountain was almost entirely self-sufficient, but not quite. They would have needed some magical materials that they could not possibly obtain from the mountain, and for this, they would have needed trading links with some of the surrounding villages – tracing those links was one way in which I was able to narrow down their location, of course.

"But I digress. It is my belief that while he was there, Melchior made contact with an emissary or trader from the R-System cult. Knowing that I was to raid it soon, he wrote the letter, gave them the watch which he had stolen himself, and made a deal with the cultists so that they would keep the false evidence within their hideout."

"If the cult knew that the Council was onto them, why didn't they run?"

"Because they couldn't have taken the R-System with them." An easy answer, that one, because it was exactly how he would have felt if it had been the Tower that was under threat. "Running and abandoning their life's work would have been unthinkable, especially when they knew their R-System was the only one remaining. Not to mention, with their defendable location, and their power, they thought themselves invulnerable. And against anyone other than me, they probably would have been."

Nodding thoughtfully, the Chairman pressed, "But even if you're right, why would the cult agree to help a member of the Magic Council? He would have been their enemy."

"They may not have known who he was," Siegrain countered. "They've been isolated from the world for a very long time. He could have posed as an ordinary man, willing to go to great lengths to get revenge on a politician who had wronged him in the past. And if they thought him harmless, the cult could feasibly have agreed to help – at no danger to themselves, might I add."

"Even so, I do not believe a dark cult would agree to help someone out of the goodness of their hearts."

"Of course not. But they _would_ agree to help someone for money – the money that would have allowed them to purchase the final parts they needed to complete their R-System."

"I still find that difficult to believe."

"Only because you did not see the R-System, nor how close it was to completion. And because you have not yet seen the final piece of evidence I brought back from the cult's hideout." The impatient glance the Chairman shot him when he paused told Siegrain how closely the other was following his words; how he was slowly becoming convinced of the story being woven. "I also recovered a briefcase full of ten-thousand-jewel bills from the chambers of the cult's leader – crude, but undoubtedly effective. I didn't bring it to the Council for obvious reasons; for the time being, it is stored securely at my house.

"So, you see, Chairman, it would be an easy matter to discover whether Melchior really was behind the scheme. All we'd have to do is investigate his private bank account to see if an equivalent amount of money has been withdrawn over the past few days. Furthermore, a transaction of that scale would be carefully recorded; we could easily check the serial numbers of the notes I recovered against those recorded by the bank, so that there could be no doubt. And, if I am right, the postal service would also have records of an appropriately sized package being delivered anonymously to the same village Melchior visited during his last holiday."

"All those things would indeed leave traces," the Chairman nodded slowly.

"And it would be trivial for you to check for them. Of course, I hope that I will be proven wrong, and that all this is just some far-fetched fantasy. However… my job requires me to draw conclusions of monumental significance from fragmented evidence, and if there does turn out to be some truth in what I have pieced together, it might be prudent to deal with this matter internally."

"Rather than announce to the world that there might be a traitor in our midst, you mean?" asked the Chairman dryly, an observation which drew a small smile from the young man.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call him a traitor. He still intended for me to destroy the R-System, after all."

"Attempting to frame a fellow councillor for a crime he did not commit is a serious offence nonetheless. I do, however, agree that there is merit in keeping this quiet. I will investigate the records you have suggested. Once we have proof one way or the other, we'll decide how best to deal with this affair."

This plan earned a nod of approval from Siegrain. "I think that is for the best."

"I shall look into it, then. Is that all, Siegrain?"

"That is all." He stood up, bowing his head in a gesture of respect. "Thank you for your understanding in this matter."

"You did well to bring this to me, Siegrain."

A slight smile; a perfectly composed expression. No outward sign of anything he was feeling inside. "I was simply doing my duty, Chairman."

"I hope you will continue to do so as a fellow member of the Magic Council."

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that. I'll be working extremely hard from here on out. You can be sure of that."

* * *

There was a spring in Siegrain's step as he left the Council chamber, and a lively, joyous glitter in his eyes, and this time he couldn't quite keep the grin from his face. Though none of these things on their own were unusual, to see them all at once from the Council's own distinguished and unapproachable Wizard Saint was enough to attract the attention even of those who barely knew him as he swept down the corridor. He felt elated, and at that moment, he didn't care how many people noticed. Everything was finally coming together.

"You're in a good mood," Ultear observed dryly, as she fell into step beside him.

"I am in an excellent mood, Ultear," he corrected her, with a broadening smile.

She raised her eyebrows. "The raid went well, I take it?"

"It did indeed. I haven't had that much fun in a long time. It certainly made those months of planning worth it."

"And the Council?"

"They're playing along. Byron is taking early retirement, which is awfully nice of him, though it's a bit of a shame I won't get to campaign against him after all. None of the others have any objections to me taking his place. Well, Melchior does, obviously, but he didn't dare raise them in that meeting and he's certainly not going to get another chance to do so. No, everything is working out exactly as planned. And speaking of which, Ultear, I have a present for you."

"For me? This _is_ unusual. You really are in a good mood, aren't you?"

His only answer was another grin. "How would you like to join the Magic Council?"

There was a quiet pause as she tried to work out exactly what he meant, broken only by the sound of their footsteps, perfectly in sync upon the stone floor. "But I can't," she replied, confused. "It has to be you. All that planning; everything we've done over the past nine months – it's all been to get _you_ on the Council. If you don't take Byron's seat, it'll go to someone else from his department, not to me."

"I wasn't offering you my seat." He grinned outright at her completely bemused expression. "Want to join the Council alongside me?"

"But… how?" Ultear shook her head. "There isn't another vacant seat, and there probably won't be for years! And even if there was, well, you've been preparing for taking over Byron's role for months, if not years – proving, through your handling of the R-System project and all the complicated legal affairs surrounding it, that not only are you better suited than him for the job, but also that you are his only possible successor. The whole system would fall apart if people were just arbitrarily removed from and nominated to the Council – even _they're_ not that stupid. There's no way you can just set that up for me in the space of a day. It's not possible, even for you."

"Already done it."

She looked at him and he looked evenly back. There was no lie there – he was looking far too pleased with himself for this to be some sort of practical joke. He really _had_ done it. "How…?"

"I expect the Chairman will come to see you at some point during the next few days," Siegrain told her calmly, avoiding the question.

With a reluctant smile, Ultear found herself nodding. "Very well. What do I need to do?"

Rather than replying, he handed her a folded piece of paper. She scanned through the words written on it, and frowned. "What's this?"

"You tell me."

A test. No, a game. He really _was_ in a good mood. "It's a list of some of my colleagues from the Treasury."

He simply glanced at her. Tapping her finger against the sheet of paper, she tried to find the link that connected all the names together. "It's… it's a list of all the people in the Treasury who owe me for something."

"Correct."

"How do you know that? I thought you never paid any attention to what I was doing."

"Ah, but you're so good at what you do, Ultear," he told her approvingly, with dark mirth sparkling in his eyes; a sharp reminder of just how dangerous an opponent he would be if she ever gave him reason to doubt her loyalty. "How could I possibly not notice? Talk to those people. Get them on your side before the Chairman comes calling. Do what you need to do to win their support. I can leave that to you, right? That's the sort of thing you're good at, after all."

After a moment of stunned silence, she burst out laughing. "You never fail to amaze me, Siegrain," she remarked, and it was the truth. "I don't even know how, but you've done it again. Okay – I'll do it. Since you've been so kind as to set everything up for me, I'll make sure I can join you on the Council."

"Glad to hear it." With that settled, he began to stride off in the direction of his office, leaving Ultear clutching the paper he had given her. He had only gone a few paces when he suddenly wheeled round, shouting, "Ultear! Drop by my office before you go home tonight, okay? There's one other job I need you to do for me."

"Sure, sure." His delight was contagious, especially when a step towards completing his objective also brought her one step closer to hers. She gave a small wave of farewell which he returned with unusual enthusiasm before bounding off down the corridor.

Ultear was still smiling long after he had disappeared from view. "He really is something, isn't he?" she murmured to herself, and the admiration had not quite left her voice. It was no longer simply an act – it was a feeling that, as far as she was concerned, he well and truly deserved. "If only we could have had him join our guild. He's wasted as a distraction."

Then she shrugged. "Not that it will make a difference in the end. When I get to start over, maybe I'll be able to meet him again. But until then… joining the Magic Council, huh? The others are _never_ going to believe this."

And shaking her head, still slightly dazed, she headed off in search of the people who owed her a favour.

* * *

Several hours later, Ultear arrived at Siegrain's office as per his request. "Alright, I'm here. What did you want me for?"

"Ah, Ultear. Excellent timing." Siegrain dropped the pile of reports he was holding into the top drawer of his desk, closed it, jumped lightly to his feet – that childish exuberance still hadn't quite been banished from his countenance – and snatched up his coat with one hand. "Walk home with me."

Her quizzical look became one of open exasperation. " _That's_ why you told me to come here? What are you, like twelve years old? I have better things to be doing, and besides – I live on the opposite side of the city to you!"

Not fazed in the slightest by her outright rejection, he slipped into his coat and, after a token glance out the window, as if to assess the temperature of the night by that look alone, began to button it up. "It'll be worth it. I promise."

"Is this your way of trying to be romantic?" she teased.

"In your dreams," he grinned back.

"...Wow, you really _are_ in a good mood, aren't you?"

"I've calmed down," he assured her, but it was clear from her disapproving expression that she wasn't buying it. "Well, alright, I'll be serious when the situation calls for it, you know I will. And that's exactly why I need you with me tonight – to stop me from doing anything stupid."

Without giving her a chance to reply, he strode to the door and held it open for her. "Come on. Trust me, you'll want to see this."

Her curiosity got the better of her, as he had known it would. They walked together along the vaulted corridors and down the sweeping staircases of the Council Headquarters. It was late. How late exactly Siegrain didn't know; it was that time of year when the sun set long before the end of the working day, and all hours that passed during the evening's darkness blurred together into one long timeless stretch. At the very least, it was late enough for most people to have already gone home.

Outside, the night was lit by a bright full moon. Its alien silver glow mingled with the earthy red-orange of the lanterns in the street, granting everything it touched a multitude of ghostly half-shadows. The air was still and frigid; every sound rang out clearly through the night, undisturbed by the hustle and bustle of the day. Their breath came as little while spirals in the air as they walked side by side. By tomorrow morning, the city would be covered in a blanket of frost. Perhaps there would even be snow.

Siegrain placed his hands in his pockets. It was more an action of habit than a genuine attempt to preserve the warmth of his fingers; after his recent expeditions into the mountains, it would be a long time before he ever labelled the temperate climate of the city as 'cold' again. He didn't mind the winter's chill. The icy air brought with it the touch of clarity.

After it became clear that he wasn't going to explain to Ultear what was going on, she stopped asking, and the two of them walked on in companionable silence. She no longer had any worries that this may have been some kind of practical joke. True to his word, Siegrain had calmed down – in other words, he was once again the mature, competent man who had ruled over the Tower for almost eight years, rather than the one who had been known to occasionally pull such childish pranks when Wendy was around.

Besides, he was constantly scanning the surrounding area with all his senses in an attempt to detect any trace of another person's magical presence. It wouldn't have been unusual on a mission in the heart of enemy territory, but no one walked through Era as though they were expecting a magical attack at any moment. He knew Ultear could tell what he was doing, and he had ignored the questioning look she had thrown him when he had begun his attentive search, but even without him offering an explanation, it was enough to convince her that something really was about to happen, and her mild annoyance at this entire affair had melted away.

After the fire had destroyed his previous house, Siegrain had moved to a new residence, this one better suiting his rank as a Wizard Saint. It was nothing special; a modest detached house three times as big as he needed it to be. He still lived alone, and he still didn't consider it any more of a home than he had his flat. It was merely a convenient place to stay while he was stuck in Era doing jobs for the Council. If he really wanted to relax – or to stay in a place that truly belonged to him – he returned to the Tower, as he found himself doing more and more in recent weeks.

Away from the city centre, which never truly slept, the suburbs were dark and still at this time of night. There was no sound to be heard above their footsteps; no shadows moved except for the two of them in that place. Upon entering the street where he lived, Siegrain finally felt the flicker of a presence he recognized against his senses, and smiled.

"Good," he murmured to himself. "I almost thought you weren't going to show up, but you just wanted some privacy, didn't you? I don't blame you for that… though it is awfully brave of you, choosing to confront me in a place where there would be no witnesses if something were to happen. Good job I brought my own, really."

"If you're not going to explain your ramblings," Ultear cut across him crisply, "Then at least have the courtesy to keep them in your head."

Perhaps taking her advice, Siegrain gave no verbal response. He did, however, let go of the magic he had been observing and allow his awareness to gradually return to that of his ordinary five senses. He could be certain now that he had not been followed, nor was there anyone lurking nearby to overhear this encounter; and there was no trace of the tell-tale magical signature that would have given away a recording lacrima hidden on the scene. His power still lingered at his fingertips, inquisitive; wondering if he was going to use it. He had no answer to give it. Only the man lurking in the shadows in front of his house could say whether or not he would need it.

His observations allowed him his full confidence. He swung open the garden gate and walked down the path, treading carefully to avoid tripping in the dark. No sooner had he entered the garden than he sensed sudden movement to his right; it was only because he had been completely expecting it that his magic didn't react at all, and he could turn and wave at the intruder without so much as flinching. "Good evening, Councillor," he called out cheerfully.

Having expected to at least take the younger man by surprise, Councillor Melchior found himself suddenly on the back foot. Not that he had had much composure to lose anyway. His tie was askew; his shirt untucked; his usual slicked-back hair had fallen out of place and it hadn't occurred to him to neaten it up again. At his side, his fists unconsciously clenched and unclenched. There was a slight wildness to his eyes as he demanded of Siegrain, "What the hell did you do?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," came the sweet response.

In a shriek he would never have used in the Council chamber, Melchior shouted, "You set it up to look like I had tried to implicate Byron in the R-System scheme!"

"Oh, that. Yes, I did do that."

Caught off-guard by the sudden change of attitude, Melchior took a step backwards. "You… you're not even going to deny it?"

"Deny it?" Siegrain echoed, mystified. "Why would I do something like that? Especially after you've come all the way out here just to confront me about it." He gave a shrug, indicating the front door of his house. "Did you want to go inside, or would you rather keep talking in the garden?"

Melchior ignored this. Even he would have realized the danger of walking through that door. Not that it would have made a difference, of course. Ultear was beginning to understand what was going on. She sat down on the low wall that ringed Siegrain's property, resting one hand on the gatepost, watching the two of them with bright, attentive eyes which gleamed like a cat's in the night. It wasn't a threatening motion, but, intentionally or otherwise, she had placed herself between the councillor and his only escape route. Some animal part of him would have known that, even if his eyes never left Siegrain's.

"They're making me step down. _Me!_ "

Siegrain raised his eyebrows. "You should be grateful that's all they're doing. If the Chairman hadn't agreed to keep this whole affair quiet, you'd probably have ended up in prison."

"But I didn't do it!" His voice became a scream once again. "None of it! It was all you! But no matter what I say, they don't believe me… they only believe you!"

"That's just how it goes, I'm afraid," he shrugged, as if it wasn't his fault in the slightest. "I'm indispensable to the Council, and as it turns out… you're not. I'm the only one who went inside the final R-System, so who can confirm what I did and didn't find in there?"

"But it wouldn't be enough! That, alone, wouldn't be enough – they'd have seen it for the lie that it was! So, how? How the hell did you withdraw money from my private account? No one on the Council even knew I had that offshore account until today! It's impossible! No magic would have helped you! Wizard Saint or not, you couldn't possibly have done that!"

The smile Siegrain shot him in response was so, so smug. After all, he had earned the right to gloat, hadn't he? "Ah, well, I will admit I had some help with that one. Ultear told me about the account. Speaking of which, a piece of advice for the future: you should probably be more careful when flaunting your personal wealth in front of the woman you yourself taught to identify suspicious bookkeeping practices."

"But that doesn't explain anything! You didn't break into the bank – it was a legitimate withdrawal, and the clerk swears blind that I took out the money, and the surveillance lacrima agree! But I never went near that place! So how did you do it?"

Siegrain took his time in replying, enjoying every moment of the councillor's frustration. "Do you know how difficult it is to project an image of a person other than yourself?"

He had posed the question to Melchior, but it was Ultear who answered; out of the two of them, she was by far the most knowledgeable when it came to matters of magic. "It's impossible." She cast him a look of genuine curiosity. "It's forbidden by the laws of magic."

"Turns out it's not," he corrected her brightly. "It's just so difficult that everyone automatically _assumes_ it's impossible. I could only maintain the illusion for a few minutes; any longer and it would probably have killed me. It's not something I'll be trying again in a hurry. I have no idea how that old man manages to maintain an entire village for days at a time… and so convincingly, as well! No image I could create of someone else would stand up to much scrutiny… but, as it turns out, it's really quite easy to fool someone who doesn't actually know the man you're trying to impersonate."

"But even if you could somehow pretend to be me, they wouldn't just give you my money! You'd have needed passwords… security protocols… no one knows them but me!"

"Oh, that was simple. I just guessed the answers to your security questions." Siegrain casually held up his hand to stall any further protests. "I know, I know. How on earth did I manage that? I'd have needed personal information that you've never told to anyone, let alone to me – details that you've gone to rather impressive lengths to keep hidden. I couldn't find anything in the Council's database; you really did do an excellent job of destroying those records. Of course, by that point I already had all the answers I needed; I was merely attempting to corroborate them. I already knew all those little details: your first pet, the name of your first best friend, your real name, the city where you were born, your mother's maiden name…"

At the dawning look of horror on the other's face, Siegrain couldn't help giving a merciless laugh. "Oh, now you're getting it. That's the problem, you see. You can erase records and keep secrets, but you can never change the fact that there's _always_ going to be someone who knows those little private details of your early life. And I had the good fortune to spend two and a half years as the neighbour of the one woman in the world who knew all your secrets. Your mother was so very proud of you, Melchior. She never stopped talking about you. She gave me everything I could possibly have needed to bring you down, and never even knew she was doing it."

The councillor's mouth opened but no words came out. He was physically shaking.

"Letting me get close to her was a mistake," Siegrain lectured, with a slight, disappointed sigh. "I know you tried to get her to move out once it became clear that I no longer needed your patronage to proceed, but it was already too late by then. It's so easy to make someone like you. You've just got to listen to them, that's all. So I did. And I filed away everything important that she let slip, knowing that one day it would come in handy when I needed to move against you."

"Why?" It wasn't an accusation, this time, but a plea. "Why would you do all this? What did I ever do to you?"

Siegrain blinked, as if the question had taken him by surprise. "To me? Nothing. I have absolutely nothing against you. In fact, I'm very grateful to you. This would all have been a lot more difficult for me if you hadn't helped me out when I first started working for the Council. Right now, you just happen to be in my way, that's all."

"I don't… I don't understand. You're already on the Council; what more could you possibly want?"

"An ally," he shrugged. "You're an enemy of mine; you've made no secret of that. Isn't it only natural that I'd want to remove you from the Council before you could make things even more difficult for me, and replace you with someone more inclined to help me out?"

"You have no control over who the Council will appoint to my seat! There's half a dozen potential candidates from the Treasury and not one of them is on your side-"

"That's where you're wrong. There is only one feasible candidate to succeed to your seat. There's one person who has been handling almost all your department's affairs single-handedly for the past few months; one person solely responsible for the arrest under financial law of one of the most notorious underground gangs. There's one person upon whom you have pushed more and more of your responsibilities, in an attempt to make her so busy she couldn't possibly have time to associate with me… and who is both more than capable of taking over your role, _and_ has the support of all your colleagues who also have come to depend on her. Aren't I right, Ultear?"

"You exaggerate," she said, feigning modesty. Siegrain caught her eye and they grinned; true co-conspirators. "I don't think my nomination will be _quite_ as unanimous as you're implying…"

"But it _will_ happen," he finished, turning his victorious gaze again towards Melchior, who flinched back; a deer frozen in the hunter's sights. "You really ought to have noticed quite how vital Ultear was becoming to your department over the past few months, Melchior… though I can hardly blame you if you haven't been giving the Council your full attention, with your poor mother being in the hospital and all. Last I heard, she was hardly showing any signs of improvement… what a terrible tragedy that was."

The councillor stilled, a dark shadow in the gloom of the garden; it was impossible to tell whether or not he was even breathing.

Softly, ever so softly, Siegrain continued, "That really was an accident, you know. I didn't mean for it to happen. But I won't pretend to be upset about it, when it worked out so well for me in the end…"

Siegrain's sharp eyes noticed it at once. It was just a small shift in the councillor's stance, one he wasn't even aware he had made. A normal man wouldn't have recognized it, and certainly not an ordinary politician – but Siegrain was nothing of the sort. He was a Wizard Saint who shone most brightly in the chaos of the battlefield, and to him, signs like these were as clear as day. His eyes narrowed slightly; a warning. "Now, now, Councillor," he chided. "You're not about to do something stupid, are you? You've seen what I'm capable of first-hand, after all-"

It seemed as though his advice had the opposite effect. He had probably overdone it again. He couldn't help it; people were just so easy to break. It was almost as if they were asking for it.

Melchior hadn't moved more than an inch towards him when Siegrain sprang into action. He had read the killing intent in the other's eyes when his action was still part-formed, and that instant was all it took for him to wrap his hand around the councillor's neck and slam him backwards against the wall of the house.

 _Now?_ His magic whispered to him, its excited voice fluttering with his pounding heartbeats. _Not yet_ , he told it. He didn't need it for this. Even though he wasn't drawing on his power at all, the councillor wasn't struggling against his grasp, as if he realized that there would be no point. They gazed at each other through the darkness.

With a sigh, Siegrain lamented, "Oh, Councillor. I really thought you were smarter than that."

Soft footsteps echoed around the quiet street as Ultear came to stand at his side. After a moment of the two of them watching the disgraced councillor, she said the words which all three of them were expecting. "You should kill him."

"Yeah, I know," Siegrain agreed, though there was a reluctance in his voice. He didn't loosen his grip, but he didn't tighten it either, or call upon his magic.

Ultear recognized that attitude, and a shadow danced behind her eyes. Displeased, she told him, "If you don't do it, then I will."

"No, you won't. I dislike unnecessary murder."

She snorted in disbelief. "After everything you've just told him, I think it's become necessary."

"No, it hasn't. The Council are far more likely to believe me than him at this point. He's not a threat to me any more."

Ultear folded her arms and said nothing more. For a long moment, Siegrain's eyes bored into the councillor's. Then, as if he had come to a decision, he released his grip on the other's neck. Placing his hands back in his pockets, he turned away and glanced out across the lifeless street.

"Leave," he ordered. "Leave Era and never return. I know you're a wealthy man; it won't be difficult for you to start over. I will give you twenty-four hours. If, after that period, you ever return, I will find you and I will kill you." He glanced back over his shoulder; their eyes met for the briefest of moments. It was a promise. "Is that understood?"

Melchior gave no verbal response. There was no need. He understood all too well. He did not run, at first; perhaps the last of his pride was dampening the fear screaming at him to get away before Siegrain changed his mind. The moment he vanished around the corner, however, the steady rhythm of his footsteps suddenly doubled in tempo as his nerve broke and he fled into the night.

Siegrain, who had watched him carefully until he was out of sight, couldn't stop a satisfied grin from stretching across his face at the sound. He caught Ultear's eye, and she found herself grinning too. She raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. "Alright, alright, you win. That was worth watching."

"I told you it would be." Leaning back against the wall of the house, he folded his arms, evidently very pleased with himself. She managed to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'm still not entirely sure why you needed me here, though."

"Oh, that's simple. I figured I would be a lot less likely to do something stupid if you were around."

"Something stupid?" she echoed. "Like killing him, you mean?" She took his silence as an indication that she had understood correctly. A teasing tone entered her voice. "Why on earth would you be less likely to do that just because I'm around? You don't want to kill someone in front of me because I'm sweet and innocent, is that it?"

Siegrain raised his eyebrows at her. "I don't like killing people in front of Wendy because _she's_ sweet and innocent. _You're_ nothing of the sort. No, if I killed someone in front of you, I get the impression that you'd just be judging me on style and efficiency. It makes me feel uncomfortable."

She stared at him for a long moment, and then burst into peals of helpless laughter. "Ah, you never fail to surprise me, Siegrain."

"But that's what you like about me, isn't it?"

"I can't say I dislike it," she mused. "It keeps things interesting. Though I'm not overly thrilled about having to walk all the way back across the city at this time of night…"

"You're welcome to stay here tonight, if you want. I don't mind sleeping on the sofa. I used to do it all the time when Wendy stayed over."

"You're being awfully friendly today."

"Everything is finally coming together. I'm allowed to celebrate, aren't I?"

After all, they had won a great victory today, and it was much more fun having someone around who appreciated his true brilliance. He didn't have to pretend in front of Ultear, like he did around others; he could just do what he felt like without having to worry about keeping up a front. Their shared secret, their shared aim, made them more than just partners in crime – they completely understood each other when the rest of the world was their enemy.

It was a measure of how much she felt the same way that rather than politely turning him down and leaving, she instead wondered, "Aren't you going back to the Tower tonight?"

"I was going to," he shrugged, as he unlocked the door. Ultear noted with some interest that there were no magical seals within the lock – and then almost smiled at her foolishness in expecting otherwise. It wasn't as if there was going to be anything in this place worth protecting. "But it's a long way, and I'm worn out enough as it is from the final raid. Besides, I don't want to risk being late tomorrow morning. It's the first day of my new job, after all."

He pushed the door open and entered into the house's dark foyer. Lacrima, recognizing his presence, jumped to life immediately, bathing the interior in a warm glow. He cast her an enquiring look, holding the door open, and she gave a reluctant nod. "Alright. I think I will stay. I still have questions, after all."

"Oh, do you now?"

But she didn't ask them as she followed him into the building, instead casting the room a swift, appraising glance. There wasn't much to look at. There was even less in this house than there had been in his flat, if possible. The kitchen was perfectly clean, as if it had never been used, and if any food was to be found there, it was tucked away out of sight. There were no decorations; no personal touches; nothing that was even slightly out of alignment with the rest of the room. In fact, every room might have been a showroom in an interior design store.

"Nice place you've got here," Ultear remarked.

He was about to give his usual retort when it occurred to him that she wasn't actually being sarcastic. He was so used to Wendy's reaction to his flat that he had automatically interpreted Ultear's response in the same way, but she was nothing like Wendy, was she? She actually understood.

"Aren't you going to complain about it being too boring?" he asked, with a secret smile.

She shot him an utterly mystified look. "Why would I do that? It's perfectly functional."

"It is, isn't it?"

Having led her into what passed for a living room, he collapsed onto the couch while she sat smartly in the armchair; both pieces of furniture were as spotless as the day they had been delivered to the house. He was completely at ease around her. It wasn't as if he fully let his guard down – he wouldn't do that around anyone, especially not someone he knew to be dangerous, co-conspirator or otherwise – but he was relaxed.

He closed his eyes as he lay there, feeling her bemused gaze upon him and ignoring it, as the weariness of the past few days was allowed to catch up with him. The fight under the mountain and its repercussions, the long journey back, and then entering the political battlefield of the Council immediately upon his return – his resolve might have been immense, but he was still human. Even though his magic was practically back to normal now, it had got itself worked up about being able to fight again, and when he hadn't needed it, its excitement had become disappointment, which faded away into lethargy when the thrill of the moment had passed. He was exhausted, and it was a mark of their relationship that he would freely permit himself to show such weakness around another human being.

Surveying Ultear through half-open eyes, he prompted her, "So, these questions you have. I want to hear them."

"Alright. I believe most of what you were saying to Melchior, except for the part where you claimed to have projected an image of someone other than yourself. That was a bluff, wasn't it? You stole the money some other way."

"No, it was the truth. It's the same magic I use to be in two places at once, just operating at a slightly higher level – using an image from my memory as the source rather than my own form. Not that I'll be in a hurry to try it that way again. I wasn't exaggerating when I said it almost killed me."

"I figured it was related to the magic that lets you be Jellal and Siegrain at once, but still, how did you do it? Creating a semi-independent physical projection is impossible in its own right – so how were you able to project and act through one that wasn't even of yourself? That's on a completely different level. The laws of magic forbid it in so many different ways."

"It's not the only impossible thing I've done, is it?" he deflected.

"No, but Abyss Break is something I can understand. How that magic is – and how you're able to pull it off – makes sense; it's incredibly well-suited to you, exactly the sort of thing that you and your magic are good at. A mage of your abilities being able to violate the empirical laws of magic in your specialist area, so to speak, isn't that hard to believe. But you've never been good with illusion magic. And even then, illusion magic is one thing – and would never have worked at the level you needed it to in order to enable a deception like that – but pulling something like that off at a distance with a projection is an entirely different matter. Your Thought Projections are mediocre at best – poor, relative to your control over other disciplines of magic. So, how?"

Such a frank assessment of his weaknesses might have annoyed him, but it was more than compensated for by the amusement of managing to vex Ultear, a woman who knew almost as much about magic as he did. "True. I am pretty awful at using this magic, I'll give you that. You should see what the man who created it can do with it. But that's just the thing – it's such an incredible piece of magic that even though I can only use it at a fraction of the power its creator can, I can still produce some pretty astounding results with it."

"So, you were taught it, then?"

"Yes, I was. You're right; I could never have worked out how to do it myself, like I did with Abyss Break."

She narrowed her eyes shrewdly, seeing straight through his half-hearted attempted at diverting the conversation away. "Who taught you?"

"I can't tell you that," came his blunt reply.

"That's unlike you."

Siegrain shrugged. "I promised I would keep his secret."

"So you're fine with telling me about your plans to resurrect the evillest mage who has ever lived, but you won't tell me who taught you some magic?"

It was with some surprise that he found she was right: he had no intention of budging on the matter. "We made a deal, and he kept his end of it admirably, despite everything that happened. I see no reason not to do the same."

He could tell she was intrigued, and he wondered if she would try to push him for answers. He was not the only one who dealt in rare and powerful magic, after all. But it seemed she was more sensible than that, for rather than risking angering him, she relented. "Suit yourself."

As they lapsed into silence, he closed his eyes once again. Seemingly having accepted that she wasn't going to get any more answers out of him, and preferring to remain on his good side, she let him lie there in peace. He heard the crackling of paper as she removed confidential Council documents from her bag and began reading through them, presumably in preparation for her work the following day, when they would return to the Council and complete their triumphant coup d'état.

He found himself wondering what would happen then, once they were both on the Council together. They had worked incredibly hard to get to that point; would they continue to work so hard, in service of the Council, in the months leading up to the Tower's completion? Now that they had what they wanted, could they drop the act and start interfering with, opposing, or even sabotaging the actions of their colleagues in order to begin sowing the seeds of discord, or would they pretend to be the Council's allies right up until the death? Did he have to keep playing at being Siegrain, or could he become Jellal at last?

Perhaps unexpectedly, he found that he had no ready answer to that question. He had focussed only on reaching this point, not stopping to consider the dead time between having Etherion in his grasp and being ready to execute his plan.

"Ultear," he found himself saying.

"Mmm?"

"Are you happy?"

Though his eyes were still closed, he could sense her undivided attention snapping straight to him at those words. She laughed; half in disbelief, and half simply bewildered. "What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"You know. Working for the Council; actually having to help them out and track down criminals and dark mages as part of the plan… do you enjoy it?"

"I hate the Council, and everything that they stand for. You know I do."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"That's because it's a stupid question."

He considered that opinion for a moment. "Yes," he said, thoughtfully. "I suppose it is."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I have literally no idea if any of this is possible in this world. I was having far too much fun writing this chapter to care. Evil Jellal is Best Jellal. ~CS_


	28. Goodbye Era

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Goodbye Era-**

 **January, X784**

"We are in an extremely strong position right now."

The Chairman had taken to his feet to make this formal declaration before the Council, and the extra height added onto his already sizeable frame lent his announcement an impressive ring of authority. He stood at the head of the rectangular table, opposite Org, who was generally accepted to be the next-most-influential councillor amongst them. The other eight sat along the sides of the antique table, their positions determined by some ancient, arcane hierarchy that not even the Chairman fully understood.

It had been a week since Siegrain's accession to the Council, and five days since Ultear had been invited to join them; this was their first official meeting as full-fledged councillors. Both of them were watching the Chairman's pronouncement with rapt attention. Gone was the arrogant, powerful, sometimes-rebellious Wizard Saint; gone was the dark mage plotting the destruction of the world as they knew it; gone was the devious, gleeful man who had delighted in framing and overthrowing his former patron – gone as if they had never even existed. The Siegrain sat before them was severe, intent and solemn: a man who was taking his new job seriously, as if he truly understood its importance. He was not trying to impress them on his first official assignment – he knew them and they knew him far too well for that – but, if anything, he was attempting the convey the impression that they had made the right decision in nominating him for this position. He was, after all, a master of the long game; he knew when to take risks and when to be serious.

Though Ultear was sat directly opposite him, there was none of the relaxed camaraderie between them that had grown during their months of being accomplices. The temptation to meet her gaze, or allude in some way to the dangerous game they were playing, was easily suppressed. She was no different. They had been playing these roles for so long that their behaviour was not an act, but a part of them; another side of their selves which came just as naturally as fighting with magic or conspiring together. When their eyes did meet across the table, it was almost as strangers. In this room, in this meeting, they were fellow councillors and nothing more; not co-conspirators, not even friends.

Not that it would fool anyone. Everyone in that room – no, everyone who worked around the Council Headquarters – knew that they were friends. Most assumed, incorrectly, that they were more than friends. Though neither of them had started that rumour, they had made no moves to quash it either. Any and all misunderstandings about the true nature of their relationship would only be beneficial in the long run. Besides, their ability to put aside their allegiance, whatever its extent, and act as impartial colleagues in this place of politics and business was simply another way in which they were proving to the world that they deserved their places on the Council.

"In fact," continued the Chairman, "Our position is almost unprecedented. With the resounding success of the R-System mission-" here he paused to nod towards Siegrain "-our reputation has never been stronger. The mage guilds, which up until recently were making no secret of their growing disrespect for us, are starting to fall in line without us having to take drastic measures to enforce our authority. We must capitalize on this momentum. Every blow we strike against the criminal underworld – against the dark guilds – only furthers our power and influence, and enables us to govern and guide the magical world towards a brighter future for us all."

"An admirable intention," growled Org. "But intention alone is insufficient. If we have learnt anything from the R-System project, it is that taking action and achieving concrete results is the fastest way to win the loyalty of the legal guilds. It is the only thing they understand."

Raising a hand in acknowledgement, the Chairman said, "That is why I have a proposal to put to the Council: that our next mission be to shatter the Balam Alliance."

A solemn silence of approval and solidarity followed this declaration – a silence abruptly broken as Siegrain demanded, "Wait, what?"

The Chairman frowned at him, as if disappointed that it had only taken the new councillor thirty seconds to ruin the gravity of their meeting. "If we could take out one of the three major dark guilds making up the Balam Alliance, it would send a poignant message to the others who dare to operate on the wrong side of the law."

"I'm not denying that!" Siegrain retorted, still in disbelief. "It would be a great victory if we could beat one of them, but there's a reason why we've never tried to take them on in the past!"

He was fully expecting his scathing tones to trigger an argument, but the other councillors were silent. Five full confused seconds passed before he realized that they were waiting to hear his opinion as their equal, rather than immediately shooting him down as a young, naïve upstart.

With an inward sigh, he tried to speak in the calmer tone expected of a councillor. "The Alliance regulates the dark guilds just as we regulate the legal ones; the organized crime to our law and order. They are a necessary evil. For either side, the cost of trying to defeat the other would be unthinkable, and so we tolerate them, and in return, they govern the dark guilds and don't do anything severe enough to force us to break the truce and come after them. That has always been the nature of the relationship between them and the Council. Why jeopardize that now?"

"There has never been a better time than right now," Org countered. "We have momentum-"

"Yes, strike while the iron is hot, I get all that," interrupted Siegrain. "But don't you think we should pick a slightly more feasible target to start with? We have next to no information about these guilds – nothing on their size, structure, or intentions, and that's not to mention the trivial little details, like where they might be found! And did I not just mention how powerful they are? We are an international governing body, with a department of several hundred mages working beneath us and an entire army at our disposal. They do the same job with just three guilds and one hell of a reputation. Don't you find that at all worrying?"

"We are in a much stronger position than ever before. Not to mention, we have you."

Raising his eyebrows to his senior colleague – once again with that rebellious icy snap entering his tone – Siegrain retorted, "On one hand, I'm flattered that you have such faith in my abilities, but on the other, if you're seriously considering sending me out alone against the entire Balam Alliance I would have to regretfully step down from my position and move somewhere very far away."

"No one is considering anything of the sort," Yajima interrupted, in his usual, no-nonsense way.

"Quite so," confirmed the Chairman. A brief smile flickered across his face as he regarded Siegrain. "With the greatest respect, Siegrain, it is clear that you are new to this. The intention of these meetings is to debate the plausibility of ideas, not to immediately begin issuing commands on a whim."

"I can tell you right now how plausible it would be," came his muttered response, though fortunately no one seemed to hear him – except for Ultear, who gave him a half-amused, half-exasperated look.

The Chairman explained, "Attacking the dark guilds at their source is but one option amongst many we must consider. From inception, we will move on to evaluate the information we would need to collect beforehand, the resources such an attack would consume, the scale, a working plan of action, the danger involved – both during such a mission and in the fallout – and weigh up risk against reward, long before we can rule on the feasibility of such a move. It is not a decision any of us would take lightly. The R-System mission, before you came along, was many years in the making."

Siegrain scowled down at the table. He knew all this, of course. He himself had been doing the same kind of administrative and evaluative work for the last few R-System raids, after he had rejected his former patron's help and struck out on his own. He was used to being an active mage, sure, but it wasn't as if that made him naïve when it came to politics.

Why, then, had he reacted so strongly to the suggestion? There wasn't any particular reason why he didn't want the Council to go after the Balam Alliance. The cult he had taken possession of during the uprising over seven years ago had always been independent of the Alliance's control. He had had dealings with Oración Seis, the smallest of the Alliance's three guilds, in the past – exchanging information he had unearthed about Nirvana in return for other knowledge of rare magic – but he certainly did not consider them friends. He had no allegiance to them, nor they to him; he was under no obligation to try and protect them just because he was in a position of political power.

Advocating the obliteration of other dark guilds while simultaneously being the Master of the Tower may have been hypocritical, but that was how this game was played. Even the councillors were smart enough to realize that, and use the mutual discord between dark guilds to their advantage. Other dark mages were his rivals – especially ones as involved in ancient, powerful magic as the Balam Alliance were. Becoming their explicit enemy as a member of the Council was a lot safer than doing it alone.

Perhaps it wasn't actually declaring war on the most powerful dark guilds which bothered him as such, but the firmer stance against law-breakers that it entailed. A Council prepared to directly take on the Balam Alliance was one that wouldn't be so easily persuaded to leave the Tower be, especially since he doubted he could play on their fear of Jellal's power so effectively if they were already willing to attack strong opponents.

Then again, that had been a threat when he merely worked for the Council, but now that he was one of them, his words held a lot more sway. He doubted the Council would press ahead with attacking the Tower without his cooperation, especially with Ultear to back him up. In fact, going along with this ridiculous idea of theirs – diverting the Council's manpower and resources into locating and planning for an attack against one of the major dark guilds – could be beneficial to him, as it would draw attention away from his own cult's illicit activities.

No, he had been opposed to the idea simply because he thought it was a bad decision for the Council to make. In their overconfidence, they would antagonize enemies far stronger than themselves; the tacit truce they currently held was the best result they could hope for. And besides, the R-System mission had only been so successful because of his history with that magic. He had known about the cults involved, their aims, and the methods and magic they were likely to employ, whereas he knew little more than most about the Balam Alliance, and what he did know only made him more reluctant to engage them. Unfortunately, since he couldn't share that knowledge with the Council, there was always a risk they would overestimate his abilities and act rashly. Provoking those guilds would be a mistake – and so he had wanted to prevent the Council from making it.

He really was thinking like a councillor, wasn't he?

Here he was, sat in this room, acting like their perfect colleague, advising them to the best of his abilities on their next sensible step. A flash of anger raced through him. What was he playing at? He had helped them this far just so that he could gain access to Etherion, and now that he had it, he ought to be sabotaging their efforts; manipulating them into making mistakes; mocking them while remaining just inside the boundary of permissible behaviour for a new councillor. When he had first started working for the Council, the humiliation of having to serve his enemies in order to save his own skin had been raw and painful, soothed only by the promise of Etherion; the light at the end of the tunnel. Somehow, since then, he had become so accustomed to working for them that-

That _what?_ That he felt some measure of allegiance that went beyond using them as tools to activate the Tower? That he took some pride in what he and they had achieved on society's behalf?

He didn't belong here. No, more than that – he didn't want to be here. When he was sat in this room, he was tempted to carry out his role as councillor to the best of his ability. He had his pride, after all. And it wasn't right. It went against everything that he was. He loathed the thought of helping them – both that he had to do so, and that he would continue to do so, if he stayed here.

No, he wanted to be in the Tower. He wanted to be as far away from these people and this life as possible. The vast chamber seemed suddenly claustrophobic.

For the briefest of moments, Ultear's eyes flickered to meet his. It was a warning. She must have detected something anomalous in his magic, which was, as always, incredibly sensitive to sudden swings in his mood. While he knew her senses were a thousand times as sharp as those of anyone else in the room – second only to Wendy's, out of all the people he had ever met – he knew he ought to be more careful. Pushing away his restless anxiety, he tried to stop overthinking things and listen to the ongoing debate.

It was Yajima's turn to speak. He remained sat down as he addressed the rest of the Council – partly because it was more convenient during a group discussion, and partly because he was so small that getting out of his chair would actually have made him shorter. "There would be far more to such a mission than simply attempting to rid the world of a dangerous dark guild or two. This is a cause behind which all of society can unite. All the major legal guilds of Fiore standing together against the Balam Alliance – imagine how powerful a statement that would make. It wouldn't just be the Council that is no longer prepared to tolerate such evil deeds, but the entire magical world. Even if it turns out that we can't locate any of the big three dark guilds, just having the Council and our guilds aligned for one goal is a cause worth fighting for."

"True," Org nodded. "I see no reason why we shouldn't begin preliminary investigations for such a joint venture."

Ultear spoke up for the first time. There was a mirthful ring to her words that she was trying hard to suppress. Siegrain may have been the only one in the room who knew her well enough to spot it, but this whole discussion was clearly amusing her. "That would be Siegrain's job, wouldn't it?"

"Indeed," confirmed the Chairman, as Siegrain glanced at him in surprise. "The risk assessment, the initial plans for how to proceed – once, it would have been Byron's job; now, it is in your hands. You have the greatest expertise in that field, after all."

"I suppose so," he replied neutrally.

"Compile a report analysing some potential approaches to such a mission, to be presented to us in two weeks' time. Is that understood?"

It wasn't a request, but a demand; one for which the authority had intentionally been allowed to slip back into the politician's tone. Siegrain had half a mind to turn it down anyway, though he would have to tread very carefully while doing so if he didn't want to cause unnecessary friction between himself and his new colleagues. As much as he didn't want to go along with something like this, there was nothing to be gained from antagonizing them early on.

And then a thought occurred to him, and he almost laughed out loud. What did it matter whether or not the Council wanted to go to war against the dark guilds? He only needed to delay their final decision on the matter for a few months. Once the Tower was ready, the Council and the dark guilds would all become equally irrelevant. The two sides could fight over what was left of the world to their hearts' content.

So it was with a secret smile that he nodded, and graciously accepted the task. "Leave it to me."

A frown added an extra line of wrinkles to the Chairman's face as he regarded the young man. "Need I remind you that we expect such a report to be a fair and impartial assessment of the current state of affairs, Siegrain?"

"Of course not."

Clearly satisfied that the youngest councillor had backed down in deference to his seniors, the Chairman gave a small shrug, and turned his attention back to the room as a whole. "In that case, let us move on to the second order of business. On the matter re-establishing our authority over the legal guilds, I would bring to your attention the mage guild Phantom Lord, about whom we have received a marked increase in complaints of violent conduct over recent months…"

As the meeting progressed onto matters that were of little interest to him, Siegrain found his attention slipping once again. His gaze wandered around the room. It was a grand hall, far too big for just the ten of them clustered around their table in the centre, but it was the only chamber in the entire building extravagant enough to satisfy the councillors' egos. Wide windows dotted the two longest walls, alternating with alcoves bearing white marble statues. The ceiling arced above them, high enough such that Siegrain would have been perfectly comfortable fighting an aerial battle beneath it. There were no guards in the room as this was a private meeting, although if he tried, he could sense the faint magical presences of the Rune Knights keeping watch on the far side of the doors.

And beyond the Knights, always pushing at the edge of his senses, was Etherion: a great glowing core, shining brighter than the sun at the heart of the Council Headquarters. Not even several metres of thick stone could fully suppress its radiance. It was at once beautiful and terrible, his aspiration and his temptation. The fact that it was so close, and yet he could not act to seize it, made him restless; he yearned for action. Even if the Tower was not complete, he wanted to be doing _something_.

Lost in his thoughts, Siegrain contributed infrequently to the rest of the meeting. None of the councillors expressed any surprise at this. It may have seemed out of character for him to be so passive, but they had clearly been anticipating him to act with caution and politeness for the first few meetings, just as they would have expected from anyone new. They would never stop underestimating him. It made this all too easy. Now that he was exactly where he wanted to be, and the thrill of his victory had worn off, there was nothing fun about this game.

"Is that all, then?" Org was asking of the Chairman, once the final motion had been proposed and passed.

"Not quite," came the steady response.

More curious than disappointed, Yajima remarked, "We've covered all the items on this week's agenda, have we not?"

"There is one final matter to discuss – one that will not appear on the agenda, nor the minutes of this meeting, nor on any other written record. It is a matter of national security, and of the utmost importance. Is that understood?"

His gaze swept around the vast hall, though it seemed to linger upon Siegrain and Ultear for a little longer than the others, checking that the newcomers truly did understand the gravity of his words. In that, he had nothing to fear. The development had arrested their attention fully.

"What I am about to tell you does not leave this room," reiterated the Chairman. "Even I do not have all the details. The King of Fiore is in the process of negotiating a top-secret trade deal with another country, whose identity must remain confidential until an agreement has been reached, or the entire thing will fall apart. As you all know, it would not normally be the business of the Magic Council to play a role in secular affairs – however, this trading partner has suddenly turned around at the last minute and refused to sign unless our King does one more thing for them."

"And what's that?" Org inquired, because someone had to.

"This country received intelligence earlier today reporting that the infamous dark guild Death's Head Caucus is currently hiding in a certain town in Fiore. Their representative will not sign the deal until they have confirmation that this guild has been eliminated."

"The assassin guild? Here?" Michello demanded. His look of horror was mirrored on the faces of many of the other councillors.

The Chairman inclined his head gravely. "The Palace has it on good authority that this nation's intelligence is reliable." For the benefit of those who did not recognize the name of the guild, he explained, "They are feared by all nations, and for good reason. The guild consists of dark mages who specialize in assassination jobs. They take no other work, and they leave behind no survivors."

Ultear added, calmly, "According to the rumours, there's a group of elites among them who are said to have assassinated every officer in the Western Army during the Cabria War. Trinity Raven, I believe they call themselves."

"If word that they had settled in Fiore got out, there would be panic amongst the populace," the Chairman continued. "I understand that the foreign nation is prepared to keep this information buried only under the guarantee that the King is acting with all haste to destroy them. As they are a mage guild, dealing with them falls, unfortunately, within our jurisdiction. It is the King's deepest wish that we carry out this task as quickly as possible."

"Easier said than done," muttered Michello, a sentiment echoed by many of the others in the room.

Yajima put forward a more practical suggestion. "It seems to me that the fastest way to deal with this foe would be to contact our most trustworthy guilds, and assemble a team of their strongest members-"

"No need," Siegrain interrupted him coolly. "I'll take the job."

The Chairman's response came back just as quickly. "Out of the question."

"What do you mean? This is the sort of job I always do!"

"No, it's the sort of job you always _used_ to do. You are, however, a member of the Magic Council now."

"You failed to mention when you offered me this role that it would prevent me from going out in the field." The sarcasm in his voice drew attention to his confusion: why would they give him a seat on the Council if it would prevent him from working as an active mage, when a man of his abilities was of far more use to them on the battlefield?

Shaking his head, the Chairman gave a grave response. "That isn't the case at all. However, this is a very unusual situation, and we must tread carefully. Your actions reflect upon the entire Council, more so than ever before. Sanctioned by the King or otherwise, this is, essentially, an assassination job. It is bad enough that we must issue such a mission – and, if all goes to plan, word that we had to do so will never get out – but for a councillor to actively participate in it will be seen as simply unacceptable. It would be highly irresponsible of us to send you."

"I understand." The passivity of that statement was undermined somewhat by the dark glittering of his eyes and the slight tilt of his head; both signs that Ultear knew well. "Then again, given the reputation of the dark guild we are up against, don't you think it would be more irresponsible to send anyone _but_ me?"

"There are other Wizard Saints we could ask," Org noted. "Jura Neekis, for example. He is certainly trustworthy, and has not hesitated to offer us his help in the past."

"True. However, I can go after this dark guild right this minute, whereas we don't even know where Jura is. He might be in his guild, but if he isn't, he could be anywhere in the kingdom on a job. I could be there and back before we've even got a message to Lamia Scale."

Sensing their hesitation, Siegrain pressed home his advantage. "Given the top-secret nature of this task, you must at least agree that the fewer people we have to share the details with, the better. If we can avoid involving a third party, we can minimize the risk of information leaking to the assassin guild - and the only person we have at the Council capable of undertaking a job like this is me. Besides, isn't the whole point to keep this job a secret? If everything goes to plan, no one but the ten of us need ever know that Death's Head Caucus were in Fiore, let alone that I was the one who dealt with them."

There was a long pause as the Chairman tried to delay his inevitable defeat. When no one else voiced any objections to Siegrain's arguments, however, he was forced to submit. "Very well. We shall leave this in your hands."

"I will go at once." No sign of his inward grin made it onto his face as Siegrain got to his feet. From the other side of the table, Ultear threw him a suspicious look – _what are you planning?_ – which he promptly ignored.

"This is all the information we have about them, including our best guess as to their current location," the Chairman told him, handing over a small dossier. "Siegrain. If there's any chance that you can bring their leaders back alive-"

This only prompted a dry laugh from the young Wizard Saint. "I admire the sentiment, Chairman, but let's not be naïve about this. Half the governments on the continent have a death warrant on this guild; they're well aware that their capture will only lead to torture and execution. I'll see what I can do, but I imagine they'll all be prepared to fight to the death."

"Do what you must," the Chairman conceded, with a heavy sigh.

Nodding once, Siegrain strode towards the room's exit, flicking through the documents in his hand as he did so. Already, a plan of approach was forming in his mind. Forget the risk assessment, the project proposals and all that waste of time that the Council had been talking about earlier – _this_ was what he did best. No red tape, no having to stay within the bounds of the law; it was just him and his prey, and it was time to go hunting.

This promised to be far more entertaining than another afternoon debating politics round in circles with the councillors. Sure, there were probably less dangerous ways of killing time, but they wouldn't be nearly as much fun.

* * *

Siegrain reached for the battered wooden door, only to pause with his palm still a few inches away from the handle. After a moment, he let his hand fall slowly back to his side.

His enemies were waiting for him on the other side. He could neither see nor hear them, nor sense the distinctive trace of another person's magic, and there was nothing to mark this one door out as different from all the others in the abandoned building, but he knew they were there nonetheless. Maybe his experience told him so. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe there was no rational explanation: he just knew.

Should he find another way round? It wouldn't be a straightforward task in this dilapidated maze of a building. Besides, there was every chance they would run if he made it too obvious he had seen through their trap. They already knew he was here. He hadn't exactly been subtle up to this point. Even if it wasn't for the magic radiating out from him like a beacon, a trail of destruction led back from his current point to the broken window several floors below through which he had entered the hideout.

This building had always been decrepit – years of neglect had almost succeeded in doing to it what the perpetually postponed demolition schedule had not – but the magic unleashed inside since his arrival had not been kind to it. Before, it had born some resemblance to the block of flats it had once been; now, half the walls had been reduced to heaps of bricks scattered throughout the shell of the building, whole sections of the ceiling were liable to collapse at any moment, and more corridors than not sported enormous holes in the floor. Without the ability to fly he might have been in trouble – many of the dark mages had been crushed by the rubble or fallen to their deaths when the floor had vanished beneath them – but with his magic supporting him, controlled destruction of certain areas of the building was simply another weapon in his arsenal, and one without which he might have struggled to defeat an entire guild of highly trained mages. It was their fault for choosing such a wreck of a building for their hideout, really.

He hadn't entirely escaped injury up to this point, of course. There was an annoying cut to the back of his shoulder that wouldn't stop bleeding, and something felt off about the way his weight passed through his left leg, though between the adrenaline and the magic pounding furiously through his veins, he wouldn't know if it was a serious injury or not until he left the battlefield. It certainly wasn't enough to hamper his movements, and right now, that was all that mattered.

Besides, the assassin guild was in a far worse state than he was. As per the Chairman's instructions, he hadn't killed everyone he had encountered; his route back through the building was littered with mages who were unconscious or otherwise immobilized, either by the nature of the injuries he had dealt them or by the wreckage of the ruined building pinning them down. Some were dead. Those who had been prepared to fight to the death, he had gladly obliged. And when his own life had been in danger, he hadn't hesitated to eliminate the threat by any means possible.

Thus most of the dark mages already lay defeated by his own hand. Some had fled, but he wasn't concerned about the small fry. The ones he was interested in – the three assassins known collectively as Trinity Raven, whose reputation led even those in their own guild to fear them – were all that remained, and they were waiting for him behind this very door. The Council's report on them had been good, but by no means comprehensive; he was hesitant to rush in without thinking, especially when they knew full well he was there.

So he rested his right palm against the door and called forth the darkness within him. Shadows spread across the door like a thin film of liquid from the point of contact, flickering and jumping even though the sunbeams penetrating the derelict building were steady. The living darkness seemed to soak into the wood, and an instant later it was gone.

Satisfied, he took a step back and tensed, ready to pounce. Magic shifted within him with every deep breath. He clenched his fist. The shadows infiltrating the wooden door reacted violently, with the result that the door seemed to explode of its own accord. A heartbeat later he was shooting through the hole he had created in a blaze of golden light.

He felt more than saw the shockwave as something rent the air only millimetres behind him. Any slower, and he would have been torn in two. Far from being unnerved by his narrow escape, however, there was a rising thrill within him as he took one lap around the room in order to assess the situation. A battle with real risk was one worth fighting.

As he had thought, all three of them were present. Thanks to the intelligence they had received from their anonymous trading partner, he could put names to them all. The one who had tried to cut him as he entered was their leader, Ikaruga, a warrior who held her blade with the poise of a lady and the skill of a murderess. If she was elegant in her appearance then Vidaldus was the opposite, with his pale face, long hair, piercings, overdone eyeshadow, and frankly ridiculous outfit. Like Ikaruga had her blade, he clutched a guitar, but although it seemed an odd choice of weapon, Siegrain was well aware that picking an unconventional weapon simply made it harder for an opponent to anticipate what kind of magic the wielder was going to channel through it.

By the time his flight around the room brought him back to the entrance, his pace had slowed enough for him to be able to hear Ikaruga issuing a command to the third member, a burly, owl-headed man who went by the nickname of Fukuro. The jetpack he wore burst into life as he flew towards Siegrain.

"Oh, you want to challenge me in the air, do you?" Siegrain called, as laughter bubbled up inside him. Turning his attention away from his earthbound opponents, he focussed on the owl-man chasing him across the room. Despite Fukuro's size, he was agile enough to dodge the rain of light Siegrain cast towards him from over his shoulder, though it was difficult to aim while he was the one being pursued. He let out a growl of irritation.

Then, as if in response to his annoyance, he felt his magic shift slightly in tone, offering to help. He let more of it rush into his body, increasing his speed. Turning sharp corners, rolling with the flow of gravity, rapid changes in acceleration – all these things, which came so naturally to him when he was one with his magic, could never be matched by a man who needed to focus his power through an external tool in order to fly.

A slight drop in speed as a distraction; a feint; a rotation as Fukuro foolishly drew close; and then a momentum-defying twist with his power surging through him – and then he was above his dazed opponent, bringing his foot crashing down on his jetpack. That single blow ripped the machine from his back. Rather than letting him fall, Siegrain whipped round once again in mid-air and drove his other foot into the back of Fukuro's head. The impact drove him into the wall, which somehow remained intact, though the collision sent dust raining down upon them from the unstable ceiling.

Satisfied, Siegrain dropped back down to the floor. He nearly let himself relax, but at the last moment his hunter's eyes caught the slight shift in the way Ikaruga was gripping the hilt of her blade, and he threw himself aside as an almost-invisible shockwave ripped through the room. Without any defensive magic to protect himself with, that could do serious damage if it hit him. But even as he realized that, he could feel the resentment of his magic, assuring him he didn't _need_ anything as mundane as a shield if he really tried.

A sphere of darkness winked into existence around his right hand. From it, a hail of black arrows burst forth, shooting towards Ikaruga and Vidaldus. A single slash from her blade cut them down easily, as he had known it would, but it was enough of a distraction to allow him to get in close. Now inside the swordswoman's guard, he placed his hand against her heart. The touch of another human being – one it could eat; one whose will did not bind it – ignited the hunger of that feral magic. The sphere rippled and expanded into a prison of violet and sinister red, enclosing her entire body within its blasphemous grasp.

Yelling some unintelligible insult, Vidaldus turned towards Siegrain and strummed his guitar, sending his magic flowing through it. A painful screeching sound reached the Wizard Saint's ears, and he winced in distaste – then his eyes widened slightly as his other senses picked up on the nature of the magic the assassin was attempting to use.

"Some form of mind control magic, am I right?" he remarked, completely at ease despite this observation. "Impressive, I must say."

Impressive, but not good enough. His confidence should have unnerved his opponent. He drew the living shadows back inside him and let them run free throughout his body, revelling in the sheer thrill of it. If Vidaldus wanted to fight that black power for control of him, he could go right ahead. Siegrain almost wanted him to try.

Disappointingly, the assassin knew better than that. The moment he felt the touch of that wild, inconceivable magic; the moment he understood what he was truly up against, he immediately backed off, the ear-splitting wail of his music fading to a trickle of discordant terror.

"The problem with that sort of magic," Siegrain continued calmly, as if he were giving a lecture rather than fighting a life-or-death battle, "Is that it either works very well, or not at all. So what do you do when you come up against an opponent that your magic can't touch?"

To his credit, the man had courage. "This!" he yelled. This time, when he struck his guitar, an intense sound wave burst forth. Siegrain was hurled backwards against the wall. The unexpected blow snapped his concentration, allowing Ikaruga to slice open the sphere of darkness and jump free. As she found her balance, Vidaldus took charge of the situation, commanding, "Fukuro, now!"

Too sturdy to have been taken out in one blow, the large owl-man had been lurking at the edges of the room, and now he jumped forwards with an eager hoot, seizing hold of Siegrain from behind.

Far from being vulnerable, however, Siegrain's eyes only shone brighter with that disquieting light. "Oh, I've read about the magic you use! I'd be intrigued to find out what would happen if you tried to consume my magic. Personally, my money would be on you exploding from within."

He broke out of that grab before Fukuro could swallow him whole, effortlessly flipping the larger man forward over his shoulder. "Alas, as much as I'd love to test that theory, I imagine it would be rather messy, and I'm going have enough trouble getting the bloodstains out of my coat as it is."

His heel shattered three of Fukuro's ribs before the owl-man had even hit the ground. Siegrain let his momentum carry him round, pivoting on the spot and following it up with a beam of white energy that burst from his raised hand to engulf his helpless enemy. Yet he wasn't even paying attention as Fukuro screamed in pain, instead examining the new layer of grime that the mission had added to the hem of his coat. "You know, I really should stop wearing white. My dry cleaning bills are through the roof."

Enraged by how casually he had taken out their companion, the other two assassins attacked at once. Siegrain jumped out of the way as another cut, too quick for the eye to see, tried and failed to slice him in two. Vidaldus's burst of sound was far easier to deal with. Though the cacophonic ringing in his ears wasn't pleasant, the force of the attack came solely from pressure waves, and now that Fukuro had been defeated the air was his domain. Drawing upon his golden magic, he flew straight through them, his momentum more than enough to overpower the force pushing him back, and a single blow at that speed was enough to put the guitarist out of the fight.

Siegrain turned to face Ikaruga as he skidded to a halt. "I was thinking of switching to wearing black," he informed her cheerfully. "But, I don't know, black is so clichéd. What do you think?"

"I think blue would suit you better." Her voice was calm. Her hand rested upon the hilt of her sheathed sword as she took one slow step forward, and then another. "A dark blue would complement your eyes."

"Dark blue, huh? You know, you might be right. I might go with that next time I'm out on a mission."

"Of course, for you, any discussion of the future is meaningless, for you are going to die here and now."

He tilted his head slightly, a broad smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. Which of us is about to die?"

"Confidence alone will not bring you victory." There it was again – the slight shift in her posture. Without giving any outward sign of what he was doing, he held his magic close, entwined with his heartbeats, ready to reinforce his physical body in an instant if needed. She continued, "My blade can cut through anything. Be they a military general or a Wizard Saint, a mountain or a cherry blossom, all yields beneath my sword's edge."

"Want to bet on that?"

As if his challenge was the signal, the two of them leapt towards each other. Ikaruga's blade carved towards him in a great arc – and stopped. The sword that could cut anything had been brought to a halt against Siegrain's left palm. Rivulets of blood streaked down his arm, and his muscles trembled against the force of holding the blade back, but the look of utter shock on the swordswoman's face made all the pain worth it.

"Im-impossible," she stammered, visibly shaking.

"Not at all," he admonished her. "Yours is a simple magic to understand and counter. The sword is just a focus for your power. It makes no difference whether it is razor-sharp or completely blunt because it isn't the blade that you cut with, but the magic you are channelling through it. And magic in any form can be overwhelmed and dispersed by a power that is significantly stronger. Your power can't beat mine within my own body. My magic is possessive like that. When you encroach upon its domain, the discrepancy in strength is just too high."

Now that she was looking for it, she could make out the power swirling around his hand – raw energy, like a heat haze in the air; a divine golden glow suffusing through his skin. The concentration was so high that it had simply drowned out her own magic. How was it possible for one person to contain so much power within themselves?

Siegrain saw her looking, and added, "If it makes you feel any better, I'm impressed you even managed to cut a centimetre into my skin with me forcing my magic to damp yours out like that. Your method of channelling magic works well against mages weaker than you, but it is useless against anyone who knows how it works and has significantly more power than you – in other words, me."

He gave a sigh. "I had a friend once, who used his magic in a similar way to you. He's dead now. I killed him. I wouldn't have dared pull a stunt like this against him; he'd have cut my hand straight off. But I figured it would work against you, and I was right. You can't touch me."

Ikaruga, still trembling, said nothing. With all his magic forced into his hand like that, the rest of his body was completely vulnerable. If she had only realized that, she could have drawn her blade back and sliced him in half before he could defend himself. Yet, at the same time, he knew he wasn't in any danger. She was frozen in the stalemate. The paralyzing terror visible in her eyes, every ounce of it directed at him, rekindled the spark of mirth within him, and it was with glee that he brought his free hand up between them.

"Want me to show you magic which really can cut through anything?" Without waiting for her response, he called into existence an enormous silver seal in front of him – and then almost immediately let it wink out again. "On second thoughts, I'd better not. The Chairman will have my head if I use Abyss Break in an urban area. Besides, it really would be overkill."

As if to prove his point, he pulled his hand free of the sword's edge and swiftly knocked the blade out of her limp fingers. Bringing both hands together in a spray of blood, he channelled his power once again into a crude but effective beam of raw energy which hurled her back across the floor. She sprawled to a stop next to the wounded forms of her companions.

Siegrain watched them carefully for a moment. All three of them were conscious, but he was confident they wouldn't be fighting again any time soon. Bracing himself against the inevitable light-headedness it would bring, he let the magic filling his body die away. The exhaustion hit all at once; the pain of his injuries immediately flared up. A lesser man would have fallen, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been after channelling the power of the final R-System, and he could suppress this weakness with sheer willpower. Not only did he remain on his feet, but his eyes were sharp and alert and glimmering with life as he approached his fallen opponents, with his bleeding hand clutched tightly to his chest.

"You've already won, so end this," Ikaruga hissed, noticing the absence of his magic. "What are you playing at?"

Siegrain gave a shrug. "Well, if you've quite finished trying to kill me, I didn't actually come here to fight you."

After a moment of stunned silence, she laughed out loud. "You'll have to forgive me for finding that hard to believe, after you massacred the rest of our guild."

"Collateral damage," he assured her. "The ones I'm really interested in are you three."

"And what do you want from us?" Fukuro demanded, in a nervous, high-pitched hoot that belied the authoritative nature of his statement.

"Oh, that's simple. I want you to come and work for me."

Another short silence followed before the laughter returned in full force. "The rumours never said you had a sense of humour," Ikaruga told him.

"I'm serious," he replied, raising his eyebrows.

"Then how stupid do you think we are? We'd never help anyone from the Council."

Shrugging once again, as if her refusal didn't bother him in the slightest, Siegrain said, "Let me put it this way. This building is surrounded, but even that's irrelevant, because you know full well that if you try to run, you'll be dead before you leave the room. The only way you're getting out of this situation alive is with my cooperation." He folded his arms, a dark grin lighting up his face. "So, go on. Give me a reason to help you."

"We'd rather die than work for the Magic Council!" came Vidaldus's scornful response.

"Who said anything about the Council?" Siegrain laughed. "I asked if you wanted to come and work for _me_."

"What's the difference? You're their pet Wizard Saint, after all."

"No." It was Ikaruga who spoke. She was staring at Siegrain with wide eyes once again; just when she thought this man couldn't surprise her any more, she had stumbled upon another revelation. "You're not, are you? That magic… that attitude… you're not Siegrain at all. You're his brother – you're the dark mage, Jellal."

"Close enough." There was an approving tone in his voice. "You've got the gist of it, I think."

"Well… this is an unexpected turn of events. Very well. We'll listen to what you have to say."

* * *

Sunset. The burning orange of the cloudless sky belied the chill of the winter's evening; the illusion of celestial warmth offered no heat to the city below. Throughout Era's streets, flickering lanterns and steadily glowing lacrima were slowly igniting in preparation for the night, manmade constellations mirroring the emerging stars above. So beautiful. So fragile. So small; trying to banish the oncoming darkness with its defiant torchlight, as if to prove it wasn't insignificant after all.

Siegrain landed on the crest of a hill overlooking the city. Somewhere down there, in the grand building at its heart, the other members of the Council were anxiously awaiting his return. He felt no need to rush to them. After securing an escape route for the three assassins, and instructing them to lay low for a while before coming to meet him at the Tower, he had flown back here at a leisurely pace, not pushing his injured body or exhausted magic any more than necessary.

While the Rune Knights at the scene, who he had left to secure the area, imprison the wounded survivors, and generally clean up the mess he had made of the building, knew that the mission had been a success – and would likely have communicated this message to the Council already – they hadn't been told the true nature of the job, and as such, the Council would want to have confirmation from him as soon as possible. He would make them wait a little longer. He lingered atop the hill, ringed by the golden world, with the gentle wind tugging fondly at his hair, and he watched the city below him preparing for the onset of night.

There was a strange sense of detachment within him, and he had a growing suspicion that there was more to it this time than the simple overexertion of his magic. For the past three and a half years, he had lived in Era. There was a brief period during that time when he had even come to think of it as home. A lot had happened to him there: he had learnt so much; he had met interesting people; he had accomplished incredible things; he had, ever so briefly, held something akin to a normal life, something that the child who had been first a slave in, and then the Master of, the Tower could never even have dreamed of. He had had a chance to experience the real world before destroying it, and though it had only strengthened his conviction, the life lived in this city had helped to shape him as a person. There would always be a part of him that held a fondness for Era.

But that part of him – the side which had developed in service of the Council and society – wasn't real. Siegrain had only ever been a fictitious existence.

Constructing the Tower under the noses of the Council. Experimenting with dark magic that he alone had the right to use. Scheming with Ultear, who understood and admired his true self, and around whom he did not have to force himself to be someone else. The terror that other dark mages felt towards him - and the awe. The fierce thrill that such acknowledgement, such dominance, gave him. _That_ was who he really was.

He had made the choice to turn his back on his fake life here and use the Tower. He had cut all ties with Wendy. There were no relationships binding him to this place. Yet while he remained here, in loyal service to the Council, he would always be torn. Now that Jellal's goal in the Council had been achieved, he could not remain here and fully be Jellal.

And that meant saying farewell to this city for good.

It was certainly possible. Maintaining his illusory twin as a semi-independent projection for a long period of time was an idea he had toyed with for a while. He already knew no one in the Council could tell the difference between his projections and his real body. It was only the danger of not being there in person during the R-System missions – which had always required his full fighting power, not to mention his own ability to manipulate the R-System magic – that had dissuaded him from attempting it. He was capable of achieving it, if he so desired.

The only problem would be with his magic. He wouldn't be able to channel sufficient power remotely for long enough to maintain his image as a Wizard Saint if the Council called upon him to fight. He'd need to split his magic in two; give one half to his projection and keep one half for himself. It was a trivial matter for him – he was almost unique in having two sources of power anyway – but it did give him reason to hesitate. There was no doubt that he would have to keep the borrowed dark power as the Master of the Tower, and forfeit the golden light that everyone associated with the Wizard Saint Siegrain to make the illusion convincing.

He wouldn't miss this life, or the people here, but he would miss that magic. It was _his_ magic, a fundamental part of him that reflected his true nature; it had grown together with him ever since its awakening. Its desires were in tune with his. It had served him faithfully; it had pushed itself to breaking point over and over again in its eagerness to help him reach their shared goals. He hadn't appreciated quite how remarkable his own magic was until he had fought alongside others and seen them fail at tasks that came effortlessly to him. No other mage he had met had a connection to their source of power as strong as his, or such an instinctive synchronization with it. Giving it up, even temporarily, meant losing an irreplaceable part of himself.

But it was necessary. He knew that now. He couldn't remain here, in service of the Council. He belonged in the Tower, amongst fellow dark mages who understood and admired his dreams, free at last to be the dark mage Jellal at the dawn of the end of the world. He would explain it to Ultear later, but he had a feeling she would understand. He needed this to complete his resolve.

And so he placed his uninjured hand over his heart, feeling the power within him ebb and flow with every heartbeat. Reluctant and weary, but unfailingly loyal to his true emotions, it came as always at his call. It did not want to be apart from him any more than he did from it, but it too understood that this was necessary. Light began to ripple outwards from his hand, gently at first, and then with increasing intensity, until not even he could bring himself to look at it.

It probably should have hurt – after all, he was essentially tearing out his own heart – but he felt nothing at all. The emptiness he had been expecting never appeared. That dark power came alive to fill the void, promising him it alone would be sufficient to fulfil his heart's desire. And it brought with it a sense of freedom: freedom from himself; from the memories tying him to this place; from Siegrain.

"Goodbye, Era," he whispered, and a slight smile touched his lips. "Goodbye, Siegrain. It's been fun, but I no longer have need of you. From here on out, I will be only Jellal."

And with that final farewell, he turned his back on the city below him and walked out into the night, finally ready to take his place as the Master of the Tower.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Right, that's quite enough of me just having fun writing Evil Jellal. Big, serious things will start to happen next chapter as this story heads towards its finale... ~CS_


	29. At the Point of Convergence

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-A Reason to Live at the Point of Convergence-**

 **August, X784**

Summer came to Era.

The climate here was a temperate one, and as such, even the hottest of the seasons was fortunately moderate – not that you would know it from speaking to an inhabitant of the city. Every year, regardless of how average the official meteorological data insisted the temperature was, the citizens would spend the entire month of August complaining about the atypically unbearable heat. Then, as soon as autumn had settled in, they would remember the summer as cold and wet, surely the most miserable on record, with only a day or two of actually being able to wear summer clothes and work on their suntans. Era's shopkeepers complained endlessly about the influx of tourists, while simultaneously using the accompanying increase in profits to plan their own trips abroad.

For one of Era's Rune Knights, the answer to which of the seasons was the worst to patrol in likewise depended entirely on when you posed the question to them. If you asked in winter, then the cold season was the one to dread: standing still on guard duty in sub-zero temperatures for hours on end, forbidden from even grabbing a warm drink with which to unfreeze their hands from the frosty metal of their weapons, was by far the worst part of their job. If you asked in summer, then it was the perpetual heat, the absence of shade, the longer days, and above all, the lack of any summer adjustments to their uniform that might have permitted them to remove some of their sweltering armour that made their job hell. Then spring was too wet, and autumn too dreary, and the days on which patrolling the city was anything other than a nightmare apparently boiled down to a couple of dry mornings in May.

Only to Lahar did the season make little difference. The scorching heat and the unforgiving cold were such minor things compared to the shadow hanging over his life that they made no impact at all on his enthusiasm – or utter lack thereof. For over a year now the months had all blurred into each other, one after the next. He got the vague impression that the world was changing, but he was no longer a part of it, and so the evolution of the seasons slowly passed him by.

As always, he walked the same route, in the same stony silence, with the same amount of disinterest towards his surroundings. The market, as loud and indomitable as ever, ignored him, as it had slowly learnt to do, and he ignored it in return. The other Knights he passed on his rounds always nodded respectfully to him, in deference to his rank, but nothing more than that. Even those he had once considered friends as well as colleagues had learned a long time ago not to bother trying to start a conversation with him. It was better for all of them that way.

So his patrol went by without incident, as it always did, and he had almost reached the safety of the Council Headquarters when, through sheer coincidence, his gaze fell upon _her_.

"She's here again?" he murmured to himself. There was a street packed full of people between him and her, and he could only catch the occasional glimpse of her through the crowd. "It's the start of a new month already? What is it now? July? No, August. That must be it. The first of August."

The calendar was of little importance to a man who had removed himself from any and all social commitments. In fact, it was only by her regular visits that he was aware of the exchange of months at all. Ever since January that year, she had been there on the first day of every month. She didn't go sightseeing, or meet up with acquaintances, or even visit any of the shops or cafés she had loved dragging Siegrain to back in the day. She just sat there with Carla, on that bench outside the main entrance to the Council Headquarters, and waited. And at the end of the day, the two of them got up and returned home, and that was it until the next month restarted her strange clockwork vigil.

He hadn't spoken to her once during any of her visits. Initially, merely setting eyes upon her had triggered memories he didn't want to think about. It was the first time he had seen her since the day they had done jobs together for the Council – the day that Matthias had died. There was a part of him that wondered how she was getting on, and what she was doing in Era, and why the person she was waiting for never appeared – but that little compassionate voice in the back of his mind was always drowned out by the paralyzing fear that had come to characterize his daily existence: fear of anything that would bring back the guilt his self-imposed isolation was holding at bay; fear of other people's pity, that would only be more poignant from a person who had once had strong ties to him and his brother.

He didn't want to talk to her, and if he didn't want to, then he didn't have to – just like he didn't have to go to the training ground and interact with the other Knights there, or chat with the people in the market, or think about anything other than just putting one foot in front of the other. He knew she knew he was there. With her gift for sensing magic, she'd have spotted him long before he had her, as usual. And he also knew that if he did what he always did and pretended he hadn't seen her, she wouldn't give any indication that she had seen him either. Perhaps she could tell he didn't want to talk to anyone right now.

So he walked past, as he did every time, with his head turned away from her and towards his destination, the main entrance to the Council Headquarters. And he almost made it. Only, as luck would have it, a sudden breeze caught the oversized floppy hat of a tourist walking in front of him and carried it past him into the air. Reacting to old instincts he hadn't known he still possessed, he turned automatically, jumped, and caught it in his fingertips – and his gaze fell once more upon the young girl sat on the bench.

Fortunately, she wasn't looking at him, but as he stood there with the straw hat hanging limply from his grip, he couldn't help but notice that she was on her own.

The large figure of the tourist, as comically oversized as her hat, appeared in his vision, but as she thanked him profusely for his help in a thick accent, praising the hat-saving heroism of Era's Knights, he wasn't listening to a word that she was saying. His thoughts kept drifting back to Wendy. Why wasn't Carla with her today? Was she really there all by herself?

He didn't want to talk to her. So what if she was on her own? It wasn't his fault. She was obviously waiting for Siegrain, so if it was anyone's fault that she was alone, it was his.

But…

She looked so lonely, waiting forever for someone who was never going to show up. And he thought he might have understood.

Making his automatic excuses to the overexcited tourist, he began to walk slowly, and with growing dread, towards the girl sat on the bench. He was just doing his job. That was all this was. If he encountered an unaccompanied child left alone in the middle of the city, it was his job as a Knight to ensure that they were alright, and that there was an adult or guardian coming back for them. He couldn't overlook his lawful duty, just because he happened to know her. That was the thought that forced him to keep putting one foot in front of the other when all his instincts were screaming at him to turn around and flee before she saw him.

And before he knew it, he was stood right in front of her. It had been well over a year since he had last seen her up close, and though he had not cared for the passing of time, it had left its mark nonetheless on those swept along in its tide. She was older now, and that was always easier to spot in a child than an adult. She had grown a little, though she would always be short, and her hair was longer; it tumbled freely almost to her waist. She had always loved to wear dresses, and today's one bore lively yellow and blue stripes – reminiscent of the patterns preferred by her guild, rather than the current fashion trend in the city.

But rather than her clothes, or her height, or her hair, the thing that jarred the most against his memory of her was her posture. She was sat demurely, with her hands placed together in her lap, staring at the ground in front of her. The Wendy in his memory was always laughing, always smiling, always trying to understand the world, always full of wonder, and always so very alive. He had prayed for the happiness and the determination and the liveliness to vanish from the world around him after Matthias had died, and they had stubbornly refused to do so, so why instead had they disappeared from this one beautiful girl?

"Wendy…"

He hadn't realized he had spoken aloud until she jumped at the sound of her name. She glanced up and her eyes widened at the unexpected sight of him – and then a flash of that beaming smile he remembered crossed her face. He felt great sadness at that moment, because that brilliant smile, so full of life, brought back an echo of better times now gone forever, when he had had a reason to live alongside his family and his friends. But there was also some part of him that was relieved. If Wendy could still smile like that, then not everything from that time had yet been lost.

"Lahar!" she exclaimed. She jumped to her feet, clumsily brushing herself down and then standing up straight.

"You don't have to get up…"

"Ah! Sorry!" She shifted her weight slightly between her feet and clasped her hands bashfully behind her back. "I guess I'm just not so used to being around Knight Captains any more, and you looked so stern…"

"I did?"

"Not in a bad way! In, uh, a cool, authoritative way. Like a proper Captain. Are you out on patrol? Because I don't want to disturb you if you are…"

"No, I just finished. I… wanted to check that you were okay."

"…Okay? Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Well, you know, a girl of your age left completely alone in the city for hours is the sort of thing that would bother any Rune Knight out on patrol."

She gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "Yeah, I often get Knights and other people asking if I'm waiting for someone. I'm okay though. I'm used to coming to the city on my own."

Something about how easily she could say that bothered him. "You're not usually on your own, though, are you? Where's Carla today?"

"She… she decided she wasn't going to come this time. She said I was being silly. She said Siegrain wasn't going to show up again, and that he obviously didn't want to see me, and that I was just wasting my time by coming every month anyway…" Then Wendy seemed to shake herself, and her downcast manner was banished in an instant. "But it wasn't a waste of time at all, because I got to see you! I haven't seen you in _ages_. I guess you've been really busy, haven't you?"

"Busy…?" he mumbled, as if he didn't understand the concept. Or, rather, as if he didn't understand why she was coming up with excuses for him. "Yes. I suppose that's it. I've been busy."

"You're always working hard," she marvelled. "Oh! Are you busy now? I don't want to interrupt anything! I'm fine waiting here on my own!"

"No," he found himself saying. "It's alright. I'm not doing anything."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I was on my way back to Headquarters when I saw you."

It was the end of his shift; he had the rest of the afternoon off. Under normal circumstances – that is, circumstances as they would have been over a year ago, when the world had held some meaning – he would have used the free time to train with his unit, coordinating optional group drills that almost everyone had attended every week, or he would have trained privately, to maintain his level of physical fitness or gain more combat experience in practice bouts. Under current circumstances, as had become habit, he would have skipped out on training altogether and gone home – or at least gone to a place where he wouldn't have to interact with other people. That was exactly what he wanted to do right now.

But he _wanted_ to be alone. That was his choice. Wendy didn't have a choice in the matter. In fact, she had come here to try and find Siegrain, even though she knew he didn't want to see her, precisely because she _didn't_ want to be alone. And it wasn't any of his business what went on between the aloof councillor and the girl who continued to love him dearly… except somehow it was. He looked at her and she looked back at him curiously, and it was every bit his business, because he cared about her. No matter how much he tried to push it all away and cut himself off from everyone, he just couldn't let this girl sit here on her own.

So, he added, "Actually, now that I've finished on patrol, I was thinking about getting some lunch in town. If you haven't eaten yet, do you want to join me?"

Her eyes lit up immediately. "Can I? Are you sure that's okay?"

"It is," he reassured her, and even though the perpetual dread in the pit of his stomach had intensified once again at the thought of going back into the town centre, somehow the bright smile on Wendy's face made it a little more bearable than usual. "Is there anywhere in particular that you want to go? What's your favourite thing to eat?"

It didn't take her long to come to a decision. "Crepes are my favourite! Can we get crepes? Please?"

"Of course-"

He had spoken without thinking and the words caught in his throat and a tremor ran through him and it was another moment or two before his conscious mind caught up and he understood why it was such a repulsive idea. The last time he and Wendy had gone to that café and eaten crepes together had been the day that Matthias had died.

And he wasn't the only one who remembered. Any hope he may have harboured of hiding his reaction before Wendy could pick up on it was instantly dashed when her eyes widened in horror. And she said, quickly, bravely, "On second thoughts, maybe it'll be better to try somewhere new. There's this really cute cat café between here and the station that I've always wanted to try, but Carla thinks it's weird so I've never had the chance before, but since she's not here this time-"

He knew she was doing it for him, and her well-intentioned pity only opened up old wounds. For a child to be pitying him – it was more than he could bear. He should never have approached her. He should have stayed well out of the way, just like he always did.

But she was still talking, still going on about nothing, still trying to help the situation in the only way she knew how; doing all she could to restore the tenuous bond of companionship between them. And just detectable above the pain that her words brought him was a twinge of guilt deep inside. He knew that his standoffishness was the cause of her discomfort. He had come over to her in an attempt to make her feel less lonely, not more so; he couldn't possibly leave without making things better.

"No, crepes are fine," he said. "I haven't been to that café in ages. Let's go there."

It was the complete opposite of what he was thinking, and he was certain that she knew it. There was a lengthy pause as she tried to work out whether it would be politer to argue, for his sake, or to go along with what he had said. "Okay," she conceded.

The Knight set off towards the shop. He could still remember the way – he walked a similar route every day that he was on patrol, but he hadn't done it once in his free time for over a year. Wendy walked tamely by his side. Occasionally she would glance at him, as if she wanted to say something, but she decided against it every time, and they reached their destination in silence.

He stopped outside. It wasn't because he was scared, or because he was upset; rather, it was that he felt nothing at all, despite his distinct certainty that he should be feeling _something_. Wendy hesitated, and then rather than asking if he was still okay to go through with it, she took the lead, taking his hand and leading him through the door.

The owner of the café had redecorated since last time; Lahar wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. It mattered little anyway, because the cashier was the same lady who had worked the weekday lunchtime shift for as long as he had lived in Era, and she recognized him immediately. "Well, if it isn't Captain Lahar! Good afternoon!"

"Afternoon," he mumbled, an automatic response.

"I haven't seen you in ages! I thought you must have moved away. Either that, or the Council had started enforcing a strict diet plan for all its Knights…"

A forced smile was probably the right way to react. "Nothing like that. I've just… been very busy, that's all."

"Well, at least you've managed to get out and about today! What can I get for you and your friend?"

"Wendy?" he prompted her.

"Hmm. I was thinking I might try the salmon and cream cheese one this time."

"Really? You said last time you couldn't comprehend why anyone would put those things in a crepe!"

"But you said that apparently it was a thing normal adults did."

"Well, it is, but… do you even like smoked salmon?"

"I'm not going to know until I try it," came her bright response.

"You…" In face of her unending optimism, he had no choice but to surrender. "Well, if that's what you want, then that's what you can have. I'll get a sweet one, so that if you don't like it, we can swap."

It was probably best to be on the safe side, despite Wendy's insistence that she wanted it. She was still a child, after all.

Although, on second thoughts, was it still alright to call her a child? How old was she now? Twelve? She was young, but given the sensitivity with which she was trying to approach him, and her kindness…

In the time since Matthias's death, he had become so used to people acting differently around him – trying so hard not to upset him – that he could identify every trick in the book, and he had become numb to them. He barely even noticed their pity any more; that pain was simply normal. Yet Wendy wasn't acting differently towards him. No, this was just how she was all the time: more sensitive, more tactful, and more compassionate than most adults he had met. Age had nothing to do with it.

Being around Wendy was just as painful as being around anyone else, but this pain was honest and real, and that made it somehow more bearable. She wasn't just a child he was looking after out of a sense of duty – she was a friend.

And just as he was trying to protect her and cheer her up, she was trying to do the exact same thing for him; not as a dependent child, but as an equal. It wasn't just that she was _trying_ to understand him – she really _did_ understand. She had been battling loss, loneliness and abandonment her entire life, and it had made her so, so kind.

Kind enough that even though she knew Siegrain wasn't coming to meet her, she still turned to Lahar the minute he had paid for their crepes and requested, "Is there any chance we could go back to the bench opposite the Council Headquarters to eat? Only, I did promise Siegrain that I would be there, and if the one time he happened to pass by was the one time I wasn't there…"

"Of course," he agreed, and they began to walk back.

"It's kind of a shame you haven't been able to get out much recently, though," she commented, picking up on what the shopkeeper had said as a means of breaking the silence. "You work far too hard. Far harder than anyone works in my guild, anyway. It must be tough being a Knight."

"Actually, Wendy… I was thinking of leaving the Rune Knights."

This was enough to make her stop dead in her tracks and spin round to confront him with her hands on her hips. "What?" she demanded, in a strangled half-shout that drew far more attention to them than he would have liked.

"Wendy…" he tried to placate her, already regretting having opened his mouth.

She repeated, "You're going to leave the Knights? But you _can't!_ You've always been a Knight, ever since I've known you! And you're the youngest Captain and the best person to have on missions, even Siegrain said so, it's just… You're serious, but also kind, and I feel so much safer just knowing that there are people like you looking after us." She shook her head in firm denial. "You're the ideal Knight and the best Captain and if you leave, then the Rune Knights won't be the Rune Knights any more-!"

It was at about this point during her unrestrained outburst that she realized it might not actually be helping. She gave a sheepish glance around the street, mumbled something unintelligible, and began walking on quietly. Only when they reached the Headquarters, and were both sat on the bench staring up at the high wall and the palatial building towering above it, did she ask, "Why? I guess you must have a good reason for wanting to leave. Though, if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay, I understand."

There was a pause, and then she added, "But if you did want to talk about it, it might help."

Why did he want to leave?

On the surface, it seemed like an easy question to answer. In fact, when he thought about it, the harder question was in why he hadn't left already. He had stayed at his job all this time solely because it provided him with a routine. It was a means by which time would be forced to pass. At first, surviving each successive breath had been an achievement, then surviving each minute, and each hour – and then getting through a patrol, and then through a whole shift, and then an entire day had gone by and the past was that little bit further away. Continuing to work as a Knight forced him to get out of bed in the morning. It gave structure and a firm goal to each day, and if that goal was utterly meaningless and meant nothing more than just surviving another day in the wake of his brother's death, then it made no difference; that wasn't the point of it. He was looking for a coping mechanism, not a purpose.

And it had worked. He had kept on living, and living had become tolerable, and time had gone by in the way that it always did, and before he knew it he had survived an entire year. He was even beginning to feel pride that he had been able to deal with his grief and carry on.

But he had only been kidding himself. The grief hadn't gone away. He didn't deserve anything like that. While he had wallowed in misguided complacency, it had simply evolved into a different form: stagnation.

Things didn't just get better on their own. It would be more accurate to say that, left alone, things didn't change at all. His hope that working at the Council would someday return to 'normal' had been naïve. The old meaning he had once found in this day-to-day life was lost to him forever.

If anything, he was moving backwards. He was exhausted, and it was a true exhaustion; the kind that never went away, no matter how much he slept, for it was a symptom of the burden of guilt he had carried with him all this time. Trivial, everyday tasks – not just patrolling around the town centre, but having to talk to his unit, reporting to his superiors, walking between his home and the Council, putting on his Knight's armour, even just dragging himself out of bed in the morning – they were all so tiring. Yet for all the effort it took, he wasn't making any progress. If things weren't getting better, then what was it all even for? He was fed up of going nowhere, trapped in this cycle of resentment and despair.

And the truth was, even if he left, had no idea where he was going to go or what he was hoping to find there. There was every chance that another future, one he didn't already have a coping mechanism for, would be a hundred times worse, and the shock of the transition would destroy whatever was left of him.

All he knew was that if he stayed here, in this numb, unchanging, meaningless life, forever waiting for one who wasn't coming home, there would come a point when struggling to stay alive was no longer worth it, and he would quietly die alone in a corner and no one would even notice.

But how could he say all that to Wendy?

"It's… it's because of Matthias," he said, in the end. "How can I be here, when he isn't? It's not right. I'm just going to keep moving round in circles, waiting for him to come back and tell me how to make things better, and nothing is ever going to change."

Wendy turned her downcast gaze towards the pavement. Undoubtedly, she had guessed his answer was going to be along those lines, and she didn't know what to say that wouldn't make the situation worse.

The awkward silence was as painful to him as it was to her. "You know," he continued, for the sake of having something to say, "Matthias was the reason why I joined the Knights in the first place."

"I thought you'd always wanted to be a Rune Knight."

"I did, but there's a little more to it than that."

She gave him a quizzical look. It was an invitation for him to keep talking, if he felt up to it.

For some reason, talking – or, more precisely, putting his emotions into words and sharing them with another human being – wasn't as bad as he had expected it to be. Wendy was so easy to talk to. She was a good listener, she had an attention span that the most patient adult would have envied, and, most importantly of all, she wanted to hear what he had to say.

And before he knew it, he was telling her everything.

"You're right; I don't remember a time when I didn't want to join the Rune Knights. It's been my dream ever since I was a child. I know a lot of children go through a phase of wanting to become a Knight, but they usually grow out of it, and I never did. It was all I wanted. I attended a school of magic alongside my normal studies, and I convinced my dad to teach me how to fight at the weekends, until I was old enough to enrol on a proper combat course. I had a goal in life, and I was absolutely set on reaching it.

"Matthias, on the other hand… he was the complete opposite. He was much older than me; if either of us should have had this sorted out, it was him, but he didn't have a clue what he was going to do with his life. He tried a lot of things, but his heart wasn't in any of them. He started learning magic at the same time I did, and though he had a talent for it, he dropped off the course pretty quickly. I don't even know where he was half the time, and neither did our parents. He took some jobs as an independent mage, did some part-time work in local businesses, even joined a street gang at one point – but he never took any of them seriously, and he never settled down. He just drifted, unmotivated and mostly unemployed. At some point, I guess Dad just decided he'd had enough. Either Matthias had to get a job, or Dad was going to kick him out of the house."

"That seems a bit harsh," Wendy interjected, frowning.

"I guess, but the ultimatum provided my brother with the focus he had been lacking. One of his friends at the time was applying to join the Rune Knights, so he thought he might as well do the same, just to get Dad off his back. So he did. He passed the entrance exams and joined as a trainee.

"He didn't really care about it, though. It was just a job; I think he only planned to stick with it until he had earned enough money to move out of the family home and become fully independent. He kept it up for a few months, which was longer than he'd ever held down a job before… and it was then that one of those incidents happened; a fluke moment that changes the course of history. I don't know the details, only that a training drill in the mountains had gone very wrong, and when the lives of his colleagues had been put in danger, he stopped taking things half-heartedly and actually _tried…_ It was the first time he'd ever used his ability in front of them, for one thing. One of the Captains noticed his skill – and, more importantly, the way he had remained calm and dealt with a threat that had immobilized the other trainees and their leaders. She immediately pulled him out of normal training and found him a personal mentor amongst the Council's agents.

"And, well, it was as if he'd found his calling. Not only was he exceptionally good at it, but it was also something he enjoyed. In no time at all they were sending him out on dangerous solo missions. He was popular; he was incredibly successful; he was gaining quite a reputation; for the first time in his life, he was considered reliable. And I couldn't stand it."

Wendy shot him a sharp look in response to the sudden bitterness that had entered his tone. "Why? Wouldn't that have been really inspirational?"

Reluctantly, his expression softened. "Ah, but you forget I was a teenager when that happened. Well, you might not know since you haven't really been a teenager yet, but… in short, it's an age where you do stupid things."

"Stupid things? Like what?"

"Well, for one thing, the more successful my brother became, the more I hated it. Becoming a successful Knight was _my_ dream, not his. He hadn't been remotely interested in serving the Magic Council, or helping society, or anything like that; he had only joined up in the first place because our parents hadn't given him a choice! I knew that if I signed up, everyone would just think I was following in his footsteps, when it had always been my dream in the first place. And not only had he just stolen what I wanted to do, but he was so good at it without even trying. I'd constantly be compared to him. And I knew that no matter how hard I worked, I was _never_ going to be as good as he was. What was the point in me aiming for that any more?"

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth in response to Wendy's look of outrage. "I did tell you it was stupid," he pointed out. "And unfair, as well. Matthias may have had a lot of talent and an exceptional magical ability, but once he found the role that suited him so well, he worked hard to keep it. To complete his missions, he not only had to be good in combat, but he was also expected to have a lot of theoretical knowledge about magic – well, you know, you've been on enough of those jobs with Siegrain – that he was simply lacking. He had a lot of catching up to do, and for a man who had never applied himself in his life, it wasn't easy.

"But I couldn't see that at the time – or perhaps I simply chose to ignore it. Whatever the reason, I became more and more disillusioned with my lifelong dream. By the time I was old enough to sit the entrance exams to join the Rune Knights, I no longer cared. I took the exams only because my parents had already entered me for them… I scraped a pass in the physical tests, but failed the written paper."

"But… you're here now, so…"

"The theoretical paper – which examines knowledge of things like the law, magic, and current affairs – is considered far less important than the physical and magical examinations, so anyone who passes those but fails the written exam is permitted to retake it within a month. I had no intention of doing so, of course. As far as I was concerned, I couldn't care less about working for the Council, despite the best attempts of my parents and friends to talk me into resitting the paper. Then Matthias caught word of my stubbornness… and he marched into the house, dragged me upstairs, and proceeded to explain exactly why me joining the Rune Knights was a terrible idea."

"He- wait, he told you it was a _bad_ idea?"

"He did. He said I wasn't suited for it at all; that I wouldn't enjoy it and that I'd certainly fail miserably as a Knight. Failing the test was a sign that I wasn't good enough. He insisted that if I was intent on a career as a mage, I'd be better off joining some mediocre guild, but that really, I ought to give up on magic altogether, and settle for a desk job in the civil service. He said joining the Knights was pointless; that I'd never be able to accomplish anything with my level of skill; that I'd just be wasting my life."

"So… you gave up?" Wendy asked, utterly bewildered.

"Not at all. The very next day I applied to retake the exam. For the next month, I studied as though my life depended on it, and I passed the test with the highest score anyone had achieved in over a decade."

She stared at him and he stared back; when she saw how serious he was, she couldn't stop a slow grin of pride from spreading across her face – as if, really, she had expected nothing less from her friend. "But why did you go back, after Matthias said all that to you?"

"Spite. I wanted to prove him wrong." He couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud at the look of astonishment on her face. "Of course, it's obvious to me now that that was what he intended all along. That's just the kind of person that he was, you know? Helping in his own way. He made me realize that working for the Magic Council had nothing to do with me or him. By playing Devil's Advocate; by baiting me into breaking through my apathy and fighting for the side I should have been on all along, he forced me to remember why I had wanted to join the Knights in the first place."

And Lahar hadn't noticed the fondness that had crept into his voice while he had been talking. He wasn't aware that a smile had gently broken down his emotionless exterior while he had spoken unguardedly and truly to this girl who was willing to listen. It didn't occur to him that this was the first time he had genuinely laughed in over a year; or the first time he had been able to sit down and speak about Matthias without becoming aggressive or clamming up or running away; or the first time he had been able to perceive those memories as they really were, precious and beloved, allowing affection to pierce through the guilt that for months had been his shroud.

But Wendy noticed all these things, and gently pretended that she hadn't, and resisted the urge to hug him, and instead just smiled and let him remember and asked, softly, "What did you remember? Why _did_ you want to join the Knights?"

Lahar thought for a long moment – not because he was trying to find a way of answering that wouldn't stir up old memories, but because he was trying to put into words a concept that was completely alien to the person he had become.

"When it came right down to it, I think it was about wanting to help people," he said at last. "There are a lot of mages who don't understand why the Rune Knights even need to exist. We have the King's army for enforcing the law in the secular side of society, and the mage guilds to keep an eye on the magical side of things. On the whole, the guilds are a lot more powerful than the Knights, and would be more than capable of policing the dark guilds and catching the criminals of the magical world under the guidance of a body like the Council. All they'd have to do is tighten up the guild regulations a little, and they could make it work. Even when it comes to the crucial jobs that the Council can't afford to distribute to the guilds, we've always got the powerful individuals like Matthias or Siegrain to take the lead. The best we Knights can do is back them up; often, they're better off going in without us. So I guess when you look at it like that, the existence of the Rune Knights is a bit strange.

"But that's because people have this idea that all we do in peacetime is catch criminals, and that's not true at all. There's so much more to our job than that. We support the agents and the guilds not just in combat, by securing the area and ensuring that civilians don't get dragged into it, but in the fallout too. We're the ones who handle and repair the damage done to the environment. We're there to ensure that the law is carried out – that when a suspected dark mage has been captured, they're not just killed by an agent taking the law into his own hands, but they're safely imprisoned; they get a fair trial; and they're dealt with appropriately, whether that means execution, incarceration, or even helping them through a rehabilitation process.

"When there's a natural disaster, sure, it's the powerful guild mages who are going to run in and rescue people, but we're the ones liaising with the civilians involved, keeping them up to date with developments, reuniting survivors with their families, and investigating how we can prevent it from happening again. These things don't end when the fighting stops. When the battle is over, and the agents and the guild mages have gone home congratulating themselves on a job well done, we're the ones that remain involved until everything is as it should be again for all the citizens affected, not just for the battling mages."

He paused for a while, staring up at the Council building and seeing something entirely different. Wendy said nothing and let him think.

A small, rueful smile touched his lips; genuine, and all the more beautiful for it. "I know little things like that aren't going to change the world. I'll happily save that for the people like my brother. But, the thing is… to most people, especially to those without magic, and who have never learned to fight, the fact that there are such powerful mages out there isn't at all reassuring. It doesn't matter whether or not they're on our side. The very existence of people so dangerous – capable of such effortless, even accidental, devastation – is alarming to those of us who just want to live our lives in peace. What do mages like that care about ordinary people?

"Those like Siegrain don't understand that concern. They've never _been_ ordinary. They don't know what it's like. But we do. Because we're not heroes, or Wizard Saints – we're just ordinary people, doing what we can to help. And that is so, so important."

Again, he paused, looking up to the sky above. Perhaps he sought guidance; perhaps he was checking that it was listening.

"For me, being a Rune Knight… it's about making people feel safe. It's being there in uniform, out on patrol, a part of the city, and having people know that they can rely on you, no matter what happens. And so what if we can't save the world? If we can just make society that little bit better, or the city a little more welcoming; if we can just bring a little bit of reassurance to everyone's daily lives… isn't that also something worth doing?"

Only then did Wendy break the silence, saying his name in a quiet, wondrous voice. He looked at her sharply, as if he had completely forgotten that there was another living human next to him.

But before he could speak, she demanded, "How can you possibly be thinking of leaving the Rune Knights, when you can say something like that?"

He stared at her and didn't understand. "I… but…"

"How you feel hasn't changed, has it?" she asked him gently. "Matthias might not be here, but that just means you have to fight harder, and help enough people for both of you. Don't give up on the things you care about; they're more important now than they ever were. You need to live for two people now."

"I…"

Watching him, her eyes suddenly widened. "I'm sorry!" she exclaimed inexplicably. "I wasn't trying to… I didn't mean to make you cry…"

"I'm… crying?"

And he found with amazement that he was. With one hand, he clumsily removed his glasses; with the other, he tried to wipe away the tears, but they just kept coming. "Look at me," he said, with a trembling smile. "And I'm… supposed to be the adult here…"

"Adults are allowed to cry too," she told him sincerely. Then, unable to hold back any longer, she jumped to her feet and threw her arms around her friend. He froze; the warmth of human contact, of compassion, was at first unfamiliar to him. But she didn't let go, not for the stares of passers-by or the pain where the rough edges of his armour dug into her arms, and before he knew it he was sobbing uncontrollably.

"I miss him so much, Wendy."

"I know," she murmured back. "I know."

And she said nothing more; just waited there for as long as he needed. It might have been an hour that went by, or it might have been only a few minutes. Time had stopped for the two kindred souls, and it resumed again only when he managed to mumble, "I'm okay now, Wendy."

"I'm glad."

She let go, and the two of them looked at each other. Aware that he must have appeared a complete mess, Lahar tried a self-conscious, apologetic smile. His eyes were red from crying; his hair was dishevelled; there were still fresh tears glittering on his cheeks; and yet, as far as Wendy was concerned, he looked more alive than he had in a long time. That was enough for her. Smiling, she settled down to sit next to him again.

There was a moment or two of silence as they both tried to get their feelings in order without bursting into tears again. Wendy swung her feet slowly back and forth. Absently, she reached for the foil-wrapped crepe that sat on the bench beside her. It was ironic, after the stress of going back to that café, that both of them had completely forgotten about their lunch. Wendy prodded it without much enthusiasm.

A smile, raw but genuine, creased the Knight's face. "I can't help but notice that you've hardly eaten much of the salmon and cream cheese, Wendy."

"That's because I was distracted listening to you."

He saw through her evasion attempt in an instant. "You don't like it, do you?"

"It's a bit… umm… different."

"Do you want to swap?"

"…What kind do you have?"

"Banana and toffee sauce. I haven't touched it, so it's all yours, if you want it."

"I _do_ like toffee sauce…"

"I know you do," he said, holding out the wrapped-up parcel temptingly.

She gazed at it for a long moment, deliberating, and then gave in. "Thank you," she muttered sheepishly, and the two of them swapped lunches. Not seeming to care how the sauce had grown cold and congealed into a mushy, bananary mess, she took an eager bite, and then another, and then she had polished off the entire crepe in an instant.

"You really do like sweet things, don't you?" Lahar observed.

With a rueful grin, she admitted, "Yeah, I do. I was just trying to be more sophisticated, like a proper mature adult, you know?"

"Wendy, I really don't think a lack of maturity is something you're ever going to have to worry about. You're already more empathetic than most adults I know."

Wendy thought about that for a moment. "I don't think that really has anything to do with being an adult or not, though. I've lost people too. I know what it's like. But when my mother disappeared, Jellal was there for me. And when he left me too, without warning, Master Roubaul looked after me and gave me a home. And even now, when Siegrain won't see me any more, I've got you, and Carla, and everyone back in the guild. I don't think I could have got through any of that on my own, and that's why I don't want anyone else to have to do so either."

"Wendy…"

"So, I want you to promise me that you're not going to give up. Promise that you'll go back to training, and you'll start having lunch in the city again, and that even if you're busy, you'll make time for the people who need you, like you always used to do for me." She had been ever so earnest up until that point that he was surprised when her gaze slipped from his and turned towards the ground. "I need you to promise because I won't be able to check that you're keeping it. After today, I don't think I'll come back to Era."

"Why not?" A startled response that came out far harsher than he had intended.

"Because Carla's right. I'm just being silly. I know Siegrain's not coming. I know he doesn't want to see me. I'm being childish, and it's just inconveniencing other people: Carla, and Master Roubaul, and even Siegrain, if he's got to go out of his way to avoid me…" A sad smile; heart-breaking and wonderful at the same time. "He made his choice, and as his best friend, I have to respect his decisions, whether I like them or not. He wants to move on, and I need to do the same. So, this is the last time."

"Wendy…" That one word, again, because what else could he say?

"So I might not see you for quite a long time. But, if you're ever sent on a mission near Cait Shelter, then come by the guild, okay?"

"I will do. Thank you. But, Wendy… please don't think that all you're doing is inconveniencing people. I'm very grateful that you came to Era today."

"So am I," she told him, with that beautiful honestly. "If I could help a little, then I'm glad."

"Were you… planning on staying for a bit longer?"

"My train back doesn't leave for a few hours still," she shrugged. "Do you want to talk some more?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then I'll listen," said Wendy, because sometimes, to save someone, that was all that was needed.

* * *

It was about a week after that encounter that Lahar and Siegrain met for the final time.

After his discussion with Wendy, it had taken the Knight a day or two to pluck up his courage, and he had almost been unable to go through with it at all. But he had made a promise, both to her and to himself, and his resolve to keep it was stronger than his fear of rejection, so he returned to the training ground.

The first few hours had been awkward, painfully so, but he had pushed through, relying on the Knights in his unit being too polite to comment on his sudden reappearance – or his prolonged absence – if he didn't bring it up. They left him to get on with it, and he did the same to them, and once a few days like that had passed, the polite greetings made and returned to those he met there had developed into short but voluntary conversations, and the Knights no longer stared at him like he was out of place, but treated him, at least in passing, as one of them again.

By the end of the week, he was back to running training drills, and though he was sure that most of his Knights attended only out of a sense of duty, things were finally starting to become more relaxed. A couple of them had stuck around afterwards to ask his advice on a particular matter of discipline, which had evolved into the most natural conversation he had had with anyone other than Wendy in over a year, with the result that the working day had long since ended by the time he left the premises, walking side by side with his colleagues. It was as they approached the gate in the wall ringing the far side of the compound that he spotted the councillor standing in the shadows.

Siegrain was alone. If it had been anyone else, Lahar would have assumed he was merely waiting for a friend, but that was far too out of character for the aloof councillor. Their eyes met. Siegrain gave no visible indication that he wanted to talk – his casual posture didn't shift at all; he just kept staring. But he didn't need to give a signal. There was no other reason why he would be here.

The two of them hadn't conversed beyond the absolute minimum necessary for their jobs since the day that Siegrain had accused him of causing Matthias's death. Seeing him here, not in an official capacity but as another human being, brought back the memories of that encounter in a rush. He felt once again an echo of that urge to run and hide and do everything in his power to not have to face that guilt again-

But it was only an echo. It told him nothing he didn't already know; hadn't already accepted. To his surprise, rather than avoiding the councillor's gaze and hurrying home, Lahar found himself staring calmly back. Did a flicker of a smile cross the other's face at that moment? At this distance, it was impossible to tell.

To his companions, Lahar said, "I'm very sorry; I've just remembered something I need to do. Go on without me. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Surprised, the young Knights accepted it without question, saying farewell and leaving the training grounds. Only once he was completely alone did Lahar turn back towards Siegrain. The councillor was still waiting. If he hadn't been sure whether or not that was an invitation before, then now he held no doubts.

It was early evening in the height of summer; the sun was still a long way shy of the horizon, and the world was golden-bright, yet Siegrain managed to have found the only patch of shadows in the vicinity to stand within. As he approached, Lahar noticed that the councillor was holding something in his hands. It was wrapped in a dark green cloth, with enough loose folds in it to completely obscure the shape of whatever small object lay beneath.

"Good evening, Councillor." Lahar gave the expected formal greeting, pleasantly surprised by how steady his voice was.

"Good evening," came the courteous response.

He said nothing more, so Lahar picked up the baton. The abnormality of the entire situation permitted his abruptness. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not entirely sure." There was a curious look in Siegrain's eyes. Lahar had expected hostility, and yet this gentle bemusement seemed genuine. "I suppose I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? Why, are you going somewhere?"

The other was silent for a long time, thinking. "In a way, perhaps I am."

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you, Councillor."

"No, I imagine that you don't." The barest hint of a smile touched the other's lips. "I have something that belongs to you. I came to return it."

"What would that be?"

Without a word, Siegrain drew aside the cloth – and Lahar's blood ran cold. His heart forgot how to beat. In the councillor's hand was a knife. And it wasn't just any old knife – it was a unique weapon, powerful and deadly, created for the hand of one man and one man alone. Lahar would have recognized it anywhere.

In that moment he wanted nothing more than to run and hide and scream and never come back to this place. But even as he stared down at the knife he thought had been lost forever, he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, and he focussed on that feeling, because it was okay to cry. Wendy had granted him that. The sadness he felt was a sign of humanity; a promise that it was okay to go on living. He held on to that promise, and he stood his ground.

Siegrain's unblinking gaze was fixed upon him, taking in every last detail of his reaction, though his voice held the same emotionless calm as before. "It was delivered to me shortly after Matthias went missing. I imagine it was Jellal's idea of a joke… or perhaps a warning. I kept hold of it all this time because I thought returning it to you would only cause you more pain, but since we've reached the end, I feel as though you should have it… if you want it, of course."

And Lahar looked up and met his gaze and said quietly, firmly, "Yes, I would like to have it. Thank you for bringing it to me."

There was an instant in which Siegrain couldn't conceal his surprise, and then, upon realizing the Knight had noticed, he gave the first genuine smile Lahar had seen him use in a long time. "There is something left of you, isn't there?" murmured the councillor to himself. "Perhaps I should be dismayed, or angry… but I simply cannot bring myself to be. Even I am allowed some sentimentality at the end of everything, aren't I?"

Carefully, Siegrain took the blade's sharp edge in his hand and offered it to Lahar hilt-first. The Knight took hold of it without hesitation. And in that instant, he felt-

- _something._

He felt raw magic against his palm – not his, but someone else's; alien and uncomfortable. A tremor raced through his entire body at the contact, and if his hand hadn't clenched reflexively, he would have dropped the knife. Still, that was nothing compared to the flicker that ran through Siegrain's body. A ripple of white light, visible even to the naked eye, shot across the other's form, making him appear momentarily insubstantial… like an instant of static interference disrupting an otherwise perfect projection.

The moment he felt it, Siegrain had let go of the blade with a curse, but he hadn't been fast enough to stop it, and the motion had only drawn more attention to the anomaly. He knew full well Lahar had seen his moment of alarm. His eyes narrowed. Before, there had been some semblance of familiarity in that gaze; now, there was only hostility. He half-raised his hand as if to call upon his magic, but then, as if he thought better of it, he let his hand fall back to his side. Some of the tension drained from his stance.

"Well," he said, again to himself. "It's too late for it to make a difference now, anyway."

And with that, he turned on his heel and strode off.

Dazed, Lahar called after him, "Siegrain, wait!"

But his shout only prompted the other to summon his magic and fly in the direction of the Council chamber. In an instant, he had disappeared from view.

Lahar was left alone on the edge of the training ground, clutching his brother's knife numbly in his hand. What on earth had he just felt? What had bothered Siegrain enough to break through his usual perfect façade, and cause him genuine alarm? Questions bubbled at his lips, but there was no one around to ask them of.

He glanced down at the weapon he held. Already, it felt uncomfortable in his hand; it had been designed for someone far stronger than him, and the balance along his arm was all wrong. Even so, his grip around it only tightened. "You would have known what it meant, wouldn't you, Matthias?" he murmured, feeling once again the painful, wonderful prickling at the back of his throat. "What is it that you're trying to tell me?"

The knife in his hands didn't speak. Of course it didn't. It didn't contain any magic of its own, let alone any kind of sentience. After all, it was the weapon of one who had possessed more than enough power within himself. It was merely a tool designed to better harness that magic, acting as a channel through which he could conduct it-

And that was exactly what had just happened, wasn't it? The blade had reacted – whether it was to his power, which would be closer to his brother's than that of any other mage in existence, or to Siegrain's, the only other person he had met whose sheer volume of stored energy could compare to Matthias's, he wasn't sure, but in that brief moment when he had held one end and Siegrain had held the other, it had done exactly what it was designed to do, and conducted the Wizard Saint's power through to him.

But it shouldn't just have acted on its own. It was an inanimate object. It could only have done that if Siegrain was actively pushing his magic out of his body and into the knife, as Matthias used to do when he fought. Siegrain's power should just have stayed securely within his body… unless his entire body had been made up of magic in the first place. Unless the flicker he had seen wasn't some anomalous magical effect he couldn't place, but really had been exactly what it looked like: a disturbance in an entirely illusory form.

Was it possible that Siegrain had been a projection? Surely not. His body had been completely substantial. He had picked up and carried the knife. He had used magic; the power radiating from him had been just as strong and familiar as Lahar remembered. And until that moment, there hadn't been the slightest indication that Siegrain's body wasn't real. Lahar would have been the first to admit that he knew nowhere near as much about magic as his brother had, but he was certain that that was impossible, even for the greatest mages of this age. It couldn't be right.

And yet Lahar glanced once again at the blade in his hand, and found himself shaking his head. As outrageous as it seemed, he knew what he had felt. And Siegrain's panicked reaction seemed to confirm that Lahar had indeed stumbled upon something he shouldn't have.

"What the hell is going on here, Matthias?" he whispered.

If Siegrain's illusion magic was that incredible, he could have been doing this for years and none of them would be any the wiser. He wouldn't have needed to be in the Council Headquarters at all. In fact, he could easily appear to be in two places at once.

And there was an even more pressing question that this threw up in the air: if Siegrain really was a projection, then who was the one projecting him?

"No. Don't jump to conclusions," he berated himself fiercely. "He's still a member of the Magic Council, and a Wizard Saint. Just because we're no longer friends doesn't mean I can suspect him without good reason."

But…

" _I suppose I came to say goodbye."_

" _Even I am allowed some sentimentality at the end of everything, aren't I?"_

And then, when he had discovered the Wizard Saint's secret: _"It's too late for it to make a difference now, anyway."_

And no amount of reasoning in the world could quell the anxious feeling welling up inside him.

There was every chance that the Magic Council knew full well Siegrain was an illusion projected in to Era while his real body was elsewhere. For all he knew, the Wizard Saint could be on some top-secret mission in a foreign country, and he had to keep up appearances here with an illusion in order to maintain his cover.

But if that were true, then there was nothing to be lost by telling the Chairman about it, was there? Best case scenario, the Chairman confirmed that Siegrain was acting under orders, made the Knight swear an oath of secrecy not to repeat the information, and that was the end of it. But if it turned out that the Chairman _didn't_ know… there might be something very, very wrong going on here.

Before he knew it, Lahar had tucked the knife into his belt – it would do for the time being – and he was sprinting in the direction of the Council chamber, following the path Siegrain had taken through the sky. The members of the Council would probably still be in the building at this time of day. With any luck, they might even be in session. He tore down corridors, ignoring the disapproving glances the Knights he passed threw him, skidded along polished floors, and finally came to a halt outside the entrance to the main Council chamber, where all their important business was conducted.

Two Knights stood outside the grand double doors, spears in hand. On one hand, it was a good sign – it meant that the councillors were still inside. On the other, though he outranked both the Knights, they had absolute authority while on guard duty, and they did not move an inch as he approached them.

His heart was pounding in his chest, but he still managed to say, "I need to speak with the Chairman at once."

The two guards exchanged glances. "I'm afraid the Council are not to be disturbed," one of them offered.

"It is a matter of the greatest urgency."

"That is irrelevant. I'm sorry, Captain, but we can't let you past. That is the law."

Lahar glanced from the two resolute Knights to the grand set of doors behind them, thinking furiously. He had come this far on an impulse; backing down, when worry was thudding this hard and fast in his chest, was out of the question. It was time to do something reckless. Resting his left hand on the hilt of the knife in his belt, and drawing courage from it, he snapped, "I have reason to believe that the Chairman and the Council are in grave danger. I will fight my way into that room if I have to."

This time, the two guards shared looks of alarm. "If the Chairman's life is in danger, doesn't that mean…?" the first one murmured.

"I'm afraid not." The second guard regarded Lahar with a new wariness – as if he were starting to side with the Captain on this matter – but his words were grim. "If I could help you, Captain, I would, but you may not enter this room. The Council is in lockdown."

"Lockdown? But that means- they're voting on whether or not to use Etherion?" A vote so important that the Council could not, under any circumstances, be disturbed while reaching their decision.

"Indeed so."

"But…" He gave his head a quick shake to clear it. "Who proposed the vote?"

"Apparently, Councillor Siegrain did."

"And their target?"

The guard gave a shrug. "Some tower, or something. I didn't recognize the name, and once Etherion had been proposed, we were both forced to leave the room sharpish."

Lahar was no longer listening. "Siegrain proposed firing Etherion at the Tower of Heaven?" he repeated to himself. "But why? Because it's an R-System? But… he's been protecting his brother for years. Why would he suddenly turn on him? And with Etherion, nothing less. It doesn't make any sense. What the _hell_ is going on here?"

And then he paused. He couldn't make sense of this situation, but there was someone who might be able to: someone who knew Siegrain better than anyone. He had to find Wendy.

He was halfway down the corridor when he stopped in his tracks once again.

This had happened before, hadn't it?

An accidental revelation. A feeling of uncertainty. Him, not knowing what to do, going to the one person who he thought might be able to help, and sending them alone to the Tower of Heaven… a place from which they would never return.

And he had just been about to do the same thing all over again.

The strength suddenly vanished from his legs. He swayed, fell to his knees, and then slumped sideways against the wall. Nausea rose up within him; he clapped his hands to his mouth in an attempt to stop himself from vomiting. How could he have thought, even for a moment, of repeating the events of that day? Hadn't he learnt _anything?_

The dim shouts of the two guards reached his ears, as if across a vast distance. They had run over to him and were trying to help him to his feet, a valiant effort foiled by the way that the world kept trying to turn itself upside-down.

 _So, you're just going to sit back and do nothing?_

That scornful thought cut into his mind as a sharp pain burst at his fingertip. The world snapped back into place with a sudden clarity. There was blood dripping from his finger, where his flailing hand had caught the edge of the naked blade tucked into his belt. One of the guards was shouting something about fetching bandages, but Lahar paid him no heed.

"Wendy has a right to know," he muttered feverishly. "Whatever else is going on here, the fact remains that Siegrain is trying to use Etherion to kill Jellal. They're both Wendy's friends. For me to know, and choose to keep it from her… I can't do that."

But if she went to the Tower, and if she died as well…

Wasn't it just going to happen all over again?

Wendy had promised him that it was okay to move on from the past. Rather than remaining locked inside the cycle of what had happened before, shackled by his guilt, he was allowed to live, and do what he believed to be right without fear.

"I have to tell Wendy," he whispered, unaware that he was speaking out loud. "She deserves to know what's going on."

Is that what his brother would have done? He didn't know the answer to that. He would never know the answer. And the thing was, that didn't matter.

What mattered was _his_ answer to that question; what _he_ was going to do about it right here and right now. The decision was his alone to make.

"If it were the other way round, I'd want Wendy to tell me what Siegrain is about to do. And if I tried to stop him, and something happened to me, I wouldn't blame her for a moment. No… I'd be grateful that she gave me the chance to try and do the right thing. I wouldn't ever consider it to be her fault. I'd be thankful that, rather than trying to shield me from the truth, she believed in me enough to tell me everything. And I believe in Wendy."

"…Captain? Captain!"

The words of the anxious Knight reached him from a world that had finally stopped spinning. Everything had fallen into place. He knew what he had to do.

"Captain, you're talking to yourself," came the guard's unhappy muttering. "I think you hit your head when you fell, and have concussion. I'm going to take you to the infirmary."

He reached down to help the Captain up. Quick as a flash, Lahar's hand shot out and seized his wrist. "Captain-!" the Knight protested.

"No. I'm not going to the infirmary. I'm going to the mage guild Cait Shelter."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** This chapter makes me so happy. __I think what I like about it is that neither Lahar nor Wendy knows how to help the other, or even themselves. They're both sort of blundering awkwardly around in the dark. But because they're not alone, they keep on trying, and they're able to slowly stumble upon a way out. Lahar doesn't have the motivation to try and save himself, but the kindness that drives him to try and help his old friend forces him out of his cycle of isolation. And it's because Wendy understands exactly how he feels, and sees herself in him, and listens to him, that she's able to reach her own conclusion. Her kindness and her empathy have made her so strong, and I think she's ready now to face her best friend._

 _Speaking of which, as you'll have noticed, the Tower of Heaven arc has started (which will bring with it a return to shorter chapters...!). Obviously I'm writing from Jellal's point of view, so everything that Natsu et al do will go on in the background for the most part. The majority of the arc will play out according to canon, and I'm only going to focus on the bits that are different. I hope you enjoy it! ~CS_


	30. We Said Farewell in a Place of Darkness

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-We Said Farewell in a Place of Darkness-**

"Wendy! Wendy, are you here?"

Throwing protocol to the wind, Lahar sprinted directly into the centre of the little village, shouting Wendy's name at the top of his voice. He glanced desperately around the circle of huts and tents. A few faces peeked warily out through gaps in the canvas, not quite sure what to make of this intruder. "I need to talk to Wendy!" he insisted, trying to catch their attention. "Please, is she here?"

"Lahar?"

He spun around at the sound of that familiar voice as relief welled up inside him. "Wendy, I'm so glad you're here."

"What's going on?" As always, she had picked up on his anxiousness immediately, and rather than running over to greet him with her usual cheerfulness, she approached him slowly, and with concern in her eyes. Carla hovered at her shoulder; an elderly man wearing a feathered headdress was right behind her, presumably her Guild Master, checking that everything was alright. "Has something happened?"

"Yes. Something has. But I am afraid that I don't quite understand it myself. I was hoping that you might be able to make some sense of it."

"Me?"

"It's… about Siegrain. I know that you haven't seen him in months, and that you decided the two of you were going separate ways, but-"

"What has he done?" she interrupted, with steely resolve shining in her eyes.

So he told her everything he knew without hesitation: about how Siegrain had proposed using Etherion on the Tower of Heaven, yes, but also about their final meeting; how Siegrain, in his own words, had come to say goodbye as if they were never going to meet again, and how he was certain that Siegrain was using illusion magic to fool everyone around him into thinking he was at the Council when his real body was elsewhere.

Wendy listened as attentively as always. She didn't interrupt once, though it was all too easy to judge her thought process from the increasing worry on her face. Only when he had finished his story did she turn her anxious gaze upon him. "I'm sorry. I don't understand either. Why… why would he do that? He's spent so long protecting Jellal… why would he turn Etherion on the Tower of Heaven now? How could he even consider such a thing?"

"I don't know. There's a possibility that the Council won't vote to fire Etherion, but it's unlikely, especially if they've found out that it's an R-System. Siegrain's the highest authority on these matters; if he says it's dangerous enough to warrant an Etherion blast, I can't imagine anyone will argue against it."

"No, they won't. But… why, Siegrain? You told me Jellal was in the Tower of Heaven, so _why?_ " Helpless to answer that question, she gazed out into the forest, and asked, quietly, "Lahar, how long ago did this happen?"

"Only a few minutes ago," came the immediate response. "I got a friend of mine to drop me off here with his teleportation magic on his way to another mission. The law says that no one is permitted to disturb the Council while they are debating the use of Etherion, so I couldn't get in to talk to the Chairman about what Siegrain is doing… I came straight here instead."

"A few minutes ago," she echoed. It was clear that she hadn't been listening to anything else he had said. "Then there's still time. I have to go to the Tower of Heaven."

"Wendy-"

Lahar had opened his mouth to point out how stupidly dangerous that would be, and stopped abruptly. He looked at her, and in that moment, the last thing he saw was a twelve-year-old girl. He saw a fellow Knight who had accompanied him and Matthias and Siegrain on innumerable Council missions, risking her life alongside theirs for the sake of the world. He saw a dear friend who had reached out to him in kindness and empathy and given him a reason to live. And he saw a guild mage, proud and fearless, who had just been told that her friend was in danger.

His head wanted to stop her, but his heart gave her his full support. She wasn't a child any more. She was someone he believed in.

Master Roubaul interjected instead. "Wendy, you do know what Etherion is, don't you?"

"I do. I've seen it up close. And I know how dangerous it is, but something that powerful must need a lot of time to charge up." She glanced to Lahar for solidarity, and he nodded once. "Even if the Council members agree to fire it, which they might not do, I'll still have a few hours. Carla, how long do you think it will take to fly to the Tower of Heaven?"

"I don't even know where it is!" the cat objected.

"It's near Akane Resort, which is…"

"Almost exactly due south of here," Lahar answered for her.

"Then we fly south until we reach the coast. I can find it from there, easily." Bright eyes, eager, terrified, as if not even she could believe she was doing this, but not considering backing down for a moment. "Do you think you can fly that far, Carla?"

"I…" Carla was no different to Lahar. In her closest friend, she found a spirit that would not be broken; a mage who, once she had set her mind on doing something, would not be stopped, no matter the danger. "I don't know if I can, but I'll do my best."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Wendy's Guild Master. "You're not actually considering this, are you? Wendy, Carla?"

"I have to reach Jellal and find out what's going on," Wendy told him steadily. "I know I promised Siegrain that I would never go to the Tower of Heaven, but he also said that it's okay to break promises, if someone's life is in danger… and if he or Jellal are in trouble, then that's a good reason. I have to go."

The old man folded his arms. "Wendy, I understand, I really do, but I can't just let you fly _towards_ an Etherion blast!"

"I'll be in and out before Etherion hits. I promise."

"I'll go straight back to the Council Headquarters," Lahar added fiercely. "I'll try and stop them, or at least postpone it for as long as I can."

Shaking his head, Master Roubaul reiterated, "It's far too dangerous. I won't let you go."

Wendy looked as though she wanted to grab Carla and run off before he could physically stop her. It was only because of her great respect and affection for the man who had raised her that she instead tried to petition him. "Master Roubaul, please-"

"Wendy." To her surprise, it was Lahar, rather than the elderly man, who interrupted her. In his strictest tone of voice, one she had never heard him use for anything other than addressing his Knights on the field of combat, he announced, "On behalf of the Magic Council, I, Rune Knight Captain Lahar, do hereby declare the Tower of Heaven situation to be a Level Five Emergency, and as such, I request the full and immediate assistance of the mage guild Cait Shelter in this matter."

A broad grin spread across Wendy's face. "Then, on behalf of Cait Shelter, Carla and I accept the mission!"

"Absolutely not!" Roubaul thundered. "As her Guild Master, I can just forbid her from taking the job!"

"Actually, you can't," the Knight pointed out, with only the slightest hint of smugness in his tone. "Didn't you read the full terms and conditions when you established your guild? Deny the Council your assistance in this situation and Cait Shelter certainly won't be a legal guild for much longer."

"Why are you so determined to get her killed?" Roubaul almost howled.

But it was Wendy who answered. "I'm not going to die. I just want to find out the truth."

"And what if the truth hurts you, Wendy?"

"Then so be it," came her steady response. "I'm not a child any more."

"No one knows that more than I do," he admitted, and though there was a grave sadness in his voice, there might also have been a little pride. "Go, then, if you must. But come back safely, both of you."

"We will," she promised him. And then, without a moment to lose: "Carla, let's go!"

"Wendy, wait!" Lahar shouted. She thought for a moment he might have changed his mind and wasn't going to let her go, but he simply fished a small object out of his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it in her hands – a small compass, its needle wobbling gently as it sat on her palm; exactly the sort of thing that, in her haste, she would never have thought of. He gave her a knowing smile. "Remember: south until you reach the ocean, and then follow the shoreline east until you can sense the R-System."

"Got it. Thank you, both of you!"

Both Lahar and Roubaul were saying something but Carla chose that moment to stop wasting time on farewells and take off into the sky. Wendy waved until they were out of sight, and then the guild was far behind her and the open sky was above her and the horizon was her goal, and they were flying towards Jellal, and whatever awaited them inside the Tower of Heaven.

* * *

He sensed her before she sensed him. After all, this was his R-System, and he was its Master; this was the one place in the whole world where his senses could surpass even her incredible gift. The magic sang to him the story of its most glorious moment: every fight; every twist; every betrayal; every single move made by his enemies in their last-ditch attempt to stop him, as his eight-year-long scheme finally reached its end.

On the floors below him, Heaven's Game was in full swing – merely a means of passing the time until Etherion had finished charging, but an amusing one nonetheless. It was entertaining to watch the Fairy Tail mages struggle; even more so to watch them succeed. He had to give credit to the two girls who had pulled a Unison Raid out of nowhere in order to defeat Vidaldus. Witnessing that had stirred the part of him still fascinated by magic in all its forms; the scholar, whose expertise in matters of magic had convinced the Council to employ him in the first place. That alone had made this entire game one worth observing.

They were out of the battle now, of course, having been unable to properly harness the level of power they had somehow summoned, but he harboured a hope that one or two of the others would make it up to him. Erza would. He was sure of it. It was awfully good of her to come to him, saving him the trouble of having to go and fetch her himself. There was every chance that Natsu would reach him too. Magic created for slaying dragons – now that was something he longed to see in action. If anyone could pose a threat to him, surely it was the Dragon Slayer.

And so he sat alone in the room at the top of the Tower, tracking the progress of the intruders with rapt attention; monitoring, back at the Council, the slow but inevitable raising of Etherion; wondering how long it would be before he himself had to join the fight. And that was where he was when he sensed her approach.

He noticed every subtle shift in the tone of the magic's song. Above the clashing of the magical battles carried out beneath his feet, he heard it whisper of a new threat approaching from across the sea, and he picked up on the danger immediately. The R-System did not recognize that presence – she had never been to the Tower before, after all – but he knew it at once.

At first, he did not react. He sat and stared at the chessboard in front of him and his expression did not change in the slightest. Then, slowly, purposefully, he got to his feet and walked over to the window. Resting his elbows on what passed for a windowsill in the twisted geometry of the Tower, he placed his chin on his palms and looked out across the sea.

She was nothing more than a black speck on the horizon. At this distance, not even she would be able to sense him with her magic, let alone see him. She came with the sunset at her back, flying between a golden ocean and a sky of liquid orange fire. The scene he surveyed might have been a beautiful one, were it not for Etherion, twisting the sky above the Tower in preparation to strike. Its mere presence skewed the shadows; cast a pall over the radiance of the sunset. She must have been able to sense it, and yet she did not stop. Typical of that girl.

He raised his hand as if to take aim, yet he did not call upon his magic. He could strike her down long before she reached the Tower, but he found himself hesitating – killing her at a distance was so impersonal, it was almost meaningless. Despite his best efforts to sever all ties with her and put an end to their association before it could get this far, she had come to him anyway. Her resilience was admirable. She had earned the right to die knowing the truth.

So he turned away from the window, striding back into the heart of that room while the shadows flittered around him. There was still time before any of the others reached his sanctum. He'd break her first, and then he'd break Erza, and then Etherion would rain down and the world would finally be his to end.

Restless, the magic tugged at his mind, trying to attract his attention as danger approached. He ignored it. Its instinct to crush all intruders remained subservient to his will; he forced it to submit as she approached the window, to let her land safely in that great dark room with him.

There was little to disturb the silence. Carla's heavy, exhausted breathing. The rustle of the evening breeze through the folds of his dark cloak. From somewhere far away, the faint sounds of a heated battle. They regarded each other without speaking. He recognized well that look on her face: she was trying her best to understand, and failing. The corners of his mouth turned up in an amused smile.

Breaking the stillness, he placed his hands in his pockets, perfectly at ease. "Wendy. And Carla, too. This is a surprise."

She tried to run over to him, but although he didn't react to her motion, the shadows did, and she froze after taking only one step. This place scared her. He couldn't blame her for that. The chamber of darkness, the centre of the R-System's power, with the blasphemous sigils scrawled all over the walls and the twisted parodies of life watching them from within the shadows - it would have frightened anyone, let alone someone as sensitive as Wendy. She was here only because he was permitting her to be here, and there was no way that she, who was so in tune with the magic around her, wouldn't have known that. If she had come alone to the heart of this place, lost and afraid and lacking the power to protect herself, when the system was this close to completion, the shadows would have eaten her alive.

It was all him, and she knew it. Even though it was still dormant, still lacking the final key to its activation, the power of this place wrapped itself around him adoringly, ebbing and flowing with each of his heartbeats, weaving a song for him and him alone. There could be no doubt in her mind that this Tower belonged to him. If she had any sense at all, she would have taken that as a warning, and fled before it was too late.

But she remained exactly where she was. "Siegrain…?" she murmured. "It is you, isn't it?" His eyes glittered in response, but he said nothing out loud, so she answered her own question. Anything to break the oppressive silence, just for a moment. "It's you; I know it's you. What… what are you doing here?"

"That's my line," came his calm response. "I thought I told you never to come here."

"I… I know I promised you that. But I had to come! Lahar said you were going to fire Etherion on the Tower of Heaven!"

"That's right." He turned his gaze skyward, seeing not the ceiling above him but the disturbance in the sky beyond it, where the sheer concentration of magic was steadily distorting space itself. "You can sense it, can't you? More so than anyone. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"But I don't understand!" she protested. "If you're about to fire Etherion on the Tower, then why are you here? You know you'll die the moment it hits!"

"Me? Die?" And he laughed out loud at the confusion on her face. "Don't you know how R-Systems work by now, Wendy? Weren't you paying attention to anything we've been doing all these years?"

Sighing, as if in exasperation, he rested his hand on the great crystal spike in the centre of the room. "See this? Lacrima. The entire Tower is built out of it. There's enough crystal here to capture all the energy from a single Etherion blast. All R-Systems need a power source in order to activate, you see. Some of the ones we encountered drained and stored the magic power of servants to use as energy. Others experimented with prototype fusion reactors, or tried to harness the power of natural elemental storms. But this one?"

With his other hand, he pointed towards the sky. "Its power source is right there. Etherion. It is overkill, I'll give you that, but you must admit that it is wonderfully poetic."

She didn't follow his gaze to the sky, nor spare a glance for the light pulsing from the crystal. She just kept staring at him. And then her eyes widened inexplicably, and she exclaimed, "Oh, I see! You know that Etherion won't be able to stop the R-System, so you've come here from the Council in order to destroy it yourself!"

"Destroy it?" he echoed, all false innocence and gleeful levity. "Now, why would I do a thing like that?"

"Because… that's what you've been doing all this time for the Council. Isn't it? Destroying the R-Systems, in order to protect the world?"

"True, I have been destroying them," he mused. "But isn't it only natural that I would want to remove the competition? And as for working for the Council, well, that was mostly just so that I could divert their attention away from the Tower of Heaven. It was so easy to convince those fools to depend on me, and once they did, they would believe anything that I said on the matter – whether it was that the Tower was too dangerous to attack and should be avoided… or that we need to take it out with Etherion at once."

Could there be any doubt now? No. Not even for her, who believed the best in everyone. The way that she couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes; the way that her hands trembled at her sides; the way her little chest shuddered with every deep breath she forced herself to keep taking – that was the confirmation he sought. At long last, that horrible understanding. It was wonderful.

"Then all this time, when you were working for the Council, you've actually been in league with Jellal?"

"Oh, Wendy," he grinned. "You have it all wrong. I'm not working _with_ Jellal. I _am_ Jellal."

"No," she whispered. "No, you can't be."

"Siegrain doesn't exist. He never did. There was only ever me."

"But…" It was becoming harder for her to find the words to say. "You said, on that night… you promised me, you would always be my Siegrain…"

He remembered. He couldn't help grinning, and at the sharp intake of breath that drew from her, his mirth evolved into outright laughter. "I lied, Wendy," he told her, and he laughed again. "I've been lying to you, and everyone you know and love, for the last four years, and not one of you suspected me. I am Jellal, the Master of the Tower, and this is my R-System… and now it's about to activate."

"But… you can't be Jellal. If you are, then… who was the Jellal I met after my mother disappeared?"

 _That_ was what was important to her here? "Beats me," he shrugged, and there was something of a snap to his voice. "Perhaps it was all just a dream. But I really must thank you, Wendy. If not for your conviction that I really wasn't Jellal, this whole plan to deceive the Council into thinking I had a twin brother would never have got off the ground. Your unquestioning belief in me is the only thing which made the Council think twice about who I was. I could never have done it without you, Wendy."

"But you can't be in the Council firing Etherion and here at the same time!"

"Actually, I can. I haven't been to Era in six months, and not one of the other councillors has noticed. As it happens, I have you to thank for that was well, Wendy – though I can't exactly tell you why. Meeting you really was a stroke of luck."

"Lahar said he thought you were using a projection," she mumbled.

"Oh, so he did work it out, did he? I thought he might have done. Perhaps I should have killed him… no, it's not like it's going to make a difference. Even if something happens to me in the Council, Ultear will make sure that Etherion fires."

"She's working with you, isn't she?"

"Indeed she is. I could have done all this alone, of course, but there was one thing you always got right – having someone around who truly understood me really helped. I was so fed up of playing at being the Council's pet Wizard Saint, and having to follow their orders and stay within the bounds of the law… and she was someone around whom I didn't have to pretend. And now, at long last, I don't have to pretend at all. Ultear knew who I really was, and she wasn't scared. Now that you're here too – are _you_ scared, Wendy?"

The firm set of her mouth trembled, but she wasn't crying, not yet. Focussing on the little details was her way of distracting herself from what was really going on and holding back the fear and the pain. While her resolve was impressive, and even induced in him a faint sense of pride, that wasn't the look he wanted to see on her face right now.

But her curiosity was a terrible thing. "Siegrain," she whispered. "If you're Jellal, then does that mean it was you who killed Matthias?"

"That's right." Appreciation shone in his eyes; dark, gleeful. "I killed him. Right here in this room."

"Why?"

There it was again. Not hatred, not fear, not even disbelief. She wasn't upset by his revelation. She was simply confused, just like Matthias had been right before he died.

 _Siegrain… why…?_

And just as he had back then, he felt a surge of anger, and this time, the shadows responded. Cracks spread through the crystal from where his palm still rested against it; the entire Tower shook once and was still.

It was not enough to stop her from finishing her question. "Wasn't he your friend?"

"Friend? That's an amusing thought. No, Wendy, he was merely someone that I happened to know. But then he came to the Tower, and got too close to the truth for comfort, so I had to kill him."

"I don't believe you…" she whispered, but he could read the truth from the way she would not meet his eyes.

"Don't you, now?" came his mocking response. "Don't you think I'm capable of that?" And then his rhetorical question became an order. "Look at me, Wendy."

When she did not, he took a slow step towards her, and then another. He recognized the tremor that ran through her at his approach. Over the past few months, of finally being able to be himself, he had seen it often in those he met, as their animal instinct to flee from him grappled with the overwhelming terror that knew running would make no difference. She wanted to escape, but she could not. Fear rooted her to the spot. Fear of him.

At long last. That was the look he wanted to see. There was a burning euphoria within him: vast; untamed; it set his heart pounding with a thrill that not even a life-or-death battle could compare to. It was becoming more difficult by the second to maintain his calm, controlled exterior, and he no longer cared. This sweet, sweet victory was worth it. How long until he destroyed her completely?

Though he was stood right in front of her now, her gaze was fixed stubbornly on the ground at his feet. She was still refusing to look at him. He couldn't have that, now, could he?

His fingers brushed softly against her cheek, and she shuddered. He marvelled at it. This was the girl who had always sought to be close to him: holding his hand to show her affection; throwing herself at him and hugging him by way of a greeting; falling asleep in his arms at the end of a long and exhausting mission, listening to his heartbeat and he to hers. Now, she shivered at his touch.

Better. Much better. In one gentle move he tilted her chin upwards, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Are you scared of me yet, Wendy?"

But still she managed to say, "I'm not scared."

"Don't lie to me, Wendy," he said, displeased. "You must have realized by now that I'm not going to let you leave this room alive."

"I don't believe that. Because you promised you'd always protect me, and I know that you meant it."

"The man who made you that promise doesn't exist. Look at me, Wendy. Look at who I really am."

In this place, where the shadows sang for him and him alone; where mages were fighting against each other right now for his entertainment; where the darkness was alive within him, connected to the R-System that was going to end the world by a bond transcending human understanding – there could be no doubt. Above them both, Etherion shone its unearthly light upon the Tower, the herald of the apocalypse.

And in this place, the culmination of eight years' worth of dark desire, she took his hand in both of hers, and said, bravely, "I know who you are. You're my best friend."

And just for a moment, he didn't know how to react.

From nowhere, he remembered something he had said to Wendy's Guild Master, so many years ago: _I can tell you with certainty that you're fooling her only because she wants to be fooled._

White rage flared within him, drowning out everything else: his surprise, his elation, his control. Fury became a blur of motion. He hit her. He hadn't meant to. If he had meant to, his magic would have acted on his behalf and done serious damage to her, but even it had been caught flat-footed. He shoved her away from him, violently, viciously; she struck the wall of the Tower and couldn't stop a cry of pain from escaping her lips. Tears sprung at once to her eyes.

Carla shouted her name and ran to her, trying to help her friend climb back to her feet. He could have stopped her, but he didn't. The Tower's magic swirled around all three of them in askance, wondering if he wanted help finishing the job. With an effort, he forced it away; tried and failed to remain calm.

He was shaking with anger. What gave her the right to say something like that? How dare she not show fear, or hatred, or anger towards him, for everything he had done? What did she not understand about this situation?

"You're wrong," he told her coldly. "I have never been your friend. Did you really think I could care about a child like you? All this time, I've just been using you. Who could truly believe I was a dark mage, when I was accompanied by such a sweet and innocent girl, who trusted me without question?"

"No…" she protested, but her voice was weak, and cracked with the pain of her injuries.

"Obtaining Etherion would have been so much harder without you. From the moment you first led me to where Nirvana was hidden in the forest, you've been an invaluable asset. If you hadn't shown me where the other R-Systems were, I'd never have been so successful, or earned the trust of the Council so quickly. I needed your abilities to let me know when the Council was watching me, and when I could act with impunity. Without your magic supporting me, I might not have figured out how to use Abyss Break, and I would never have been made a Wizard Saint so young."

He laughed again, mocking her. At the sight of her pathetic vulnerability, his dark humour was slowly returning to him. "Oh, it hasn't all been easy. For every instance when your healing magic saved me, there was another when you almost got me killed. Having to put up with such an annoying child hanging around me all this time was a real pain. Keeping up this lie for four years… it's been tiresome. That's why I had to get rid of you, the moment I no longer needed you. Oh, but it was worth it. It's only because of you that I'm standing here right now, ready to activate the last remaining R-System and bring ruin to the world."

"I don't believe that. What about all the things we did together? That day when we went to the beach… we flew together…"

"Oh, that." His chuckle silenced her protests at once. "Your Guild Master was causing me problems. He's a lot more perceptive than you are. He wanted to stop me from taking you out on missions with me, and I couldn't have that. Our trip to the beach had two purposes – to pretend to him that I did care about you and wasn't always putting you in danger, and to win you over to my side, so that if it came down to an argument between Roubaul and I, you would side with me. I wasn't remotely interested in whether or not you had a fun day out. And to be perfectly honest, that day was pretty close to my idea of hell, but I can't complain too much. It had the desired effect, after all."

"But… everything we did…" She sounded completely lost. "All the time we spent together… the little things, like our shopping trips to the market, and the missions we went on, and the road trips… the time we went camping… or visited Crocus… or the Wizard Saint ceremony… all that…"

"It wasn't real, Wendy. None of it. It means nothing. The person you loved so dearly never even existed."

"I…"

He shrugged. "What about this don't you understand? It was all a lie. And it was all just so that I can stand here today."

"No, I understand." There was a pause. And just as he thought he had finally defeated her, she murmured, "But won't you at least tell me why?"

"Why…?"

"Why would you give up on your life in the Council to come here?"

He tilted his head to one side, as confused in that moment as she was. "I told you. I only ever worked for the Council in order to get my hands on Etherion. All I ever wanted was to stand here and make my R-System a reality."

"But… weren't you happy?"

Happy?

In that life? Pretending to be someone he was not? Obeying the orders of those he looked down upon? Enduring the humiliation of being a colleague to those fools on the Council? Having to follow their laws and participate in their pathetic society? Living in that city as an ordinary man when he could have spent those four years here, where he was the master of all?

He gave a bewildered laugh. "Happy, working for the Council? Are you kidding me? I hated it. Every minute of the past four years has been a struggle. But, I suppose that will only make it all the sweeter when I destroy them."

It was at that moment that Wendy burst into tears.

Once again, her reaction took him by surprise. Now? She was crying _now?_ Not when he was gloating over the true extent of his betrayal, or telling her she was going to die, or revealing that he had killed one of her closest friends, or deliberately intimidating her, or even when he had struck out at her in anger – but _now?_

But there was no denying it. Enormous sobs shook her entire body. Were it not for the wall at her back, she would had struggled to remain upright. And all the while, her imploring gaze, glittering with her innocent, painful tears, never left his own.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I really… I really thought that you were happy. I loved going on missions with you so much that I just assumed you felt the same way. You and me, and Carla, and Matthias, and Lahar, and everyone else we fought alongside… I was so happy and everything was just so good and… and I never even noticed how unhappy you were inside… I should have seen; I might have been able to do something to help! But all this time… I was only ever thinking of my own happiness…"

As he stared at her, utterly speechless, she sniffed, and continued, "I've been so selfish. Always making you do things with me, and protect me, and look after me, and forcing you to act like _I_ wanted you to act… If I'd known how upset you were, I'd have left, or… or something! I was your best friend! I was supposed to notice! But I only ever cared about how happy I was when you were around… I never even noticed how much you were suffering…"

Her voice tailed off into nothing; her sobs became huge, shuddering breaths. She wiped her eyes. Apart from her occasional hiccup, there was silence in the room. Even the shadows seemed to have frozen in their dance.

"Wendy…" Carla murmured, staring up at her friend from the floor. And then she gathered her courage, and scolded her, "You should _not_ be apologizing to this man! After everything he's done-"

"No," she said, in a quavering voice. "I should. Because what kind of best friend am I, if I couldn't even see how much he's been hurting all this time?"

No.

Carla was right.

Listening to the girl speak, with all that pure honesty; beautiful naivety; painful compassion – he was shaking uncontrollably. There was only one thought racing through his mind.

How dare she?

He was the one betraying her, so how dare _she_ apologize to _him?_

He was the one who had deceived her, and used her, and even now promised to kill her, so how dare she ask for _his_ forgiveness?

At this, the moment of his greatest triumph, with his heart's desire finally within his reach, and when she didn't even have the common sense to be distraught over her own inevitable fate, how _dare_ she feel sorry for him?

Blinding fury rippled through him. Something was screaming in his mind, blocking out everything else. He commanded the shadows and they came to him at once: a spiral of living darkness burst into existence around his outstretched hand, the manifestation of his hatred in the world.

"Wendy!" Carla yelled.

The girl looked up and saw her death in those shadows, and knew that there was nothing she could do about it. She raised her arms pitifully, in a vain attempt to protect herself, as if that would do _anything_ against the raw strength of his magic. Fatal darkness shot towards her heart-

At last, at long last, he was going to be rid of this girl!

-and missed. It was so close that the shockwaves tore at her hair and she screwed her eyes shut against the pressure, but his magic had not touched her; rather, it had swerved around her and torn an enormous hole in the wall of the Tower instead.

He screamed something that might have been a word or might simply have been animal fury. In an instant, he had summoned twice as much power to his fingertips, but that instant was all Carla needed to act. She wasn't about to let him try again. She shoved the girl through the still-smoking hole in the wall; the sudden motion was enough to off-balance Wendy and do what Carla's little weight alone would have failed to do. The cat jumped after her, materializing her wings, and she seized Wendy before they had fallen more than a couple of metres and shot up towards the sky.

He howled something after them, sprinting to the breach in the wall – but Carla was flying like she had never flown before, and they were already a blurred black dot, framed by the setting sun. Without thinking, he slammed his fist into the wall, heedless of the cracks which ran through the already-damaged lacrima at the impact.

"Why?" he screamed, of his magic. "Why did you stop?"

He turned his focus inwards, demanding answers of that black void of power within him – but he found only his own question reflected back at him. It mirrored his anger, except this time it was directed not towards the girl, but to him. It was resentful, too; enough to give him pause.

And as he fought to steady his breathing, and bring his emotions back under control, he began to understand what it was asking him.

 _Why did you stop?_

The magic hadn't disobeyed him, of course it hadn't; it loved him, and would do anything to bring about their shared dreams. It was _him_. He hadn't had the resolve to see his action through. Without even realizing he was doing it, he had forced his magic to turn aside at the last moment, leaving Wendy unharmed. Such a flagrant display of weakness – no wonder that dark power was unhappy.

In the emptiness, he began to laugh. Not gloating, not this time; no, it was a bitter, cynical laugh: mocking, yes, but mocking himself. "Even now, I can't kill that girl," he marvelled, and he laughed again, slamming his fist once more into the wall. "What a joke."

He spun around, a single, vicious motion. Restless, he began to pace, his heels snapping along the ground. His earlier calmness was gone. He could not mask his disconcertment, nor fully suppress his anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. Wendy's reaction had completely thrown him. "And I'm supposed to face Erza like this?" he snarled.

With a bitter curse, he resumed his pacing. His confidence had completely deserted him. Oh, it wasn't as though he doubted himself – he was certain that his plan would go off without a hitch – but, for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, the waiting was no longer enjoyable. This wasn't just a game to him any more.

Closing his eyes, he let his awareness of the room around him vanish, listening first to the ever-changing patterns of the Tower's magic, and then focussing on the Council chamber, ever so far away. And there, echoing in the stillness of his mind, a painfully familiar voice: _but… weren't you happy?_

He growled and forced the memory away, abruptly returning to the present. The intruders in the Tower had made progress while he had been distracted dealing with Wendy. Erza would definitely reach him before Etherion struck. Before, that thought would have pleased him; now, it was just an annoyance. What if she didn't play along, like Wendy hadn't? What if she also started crying, for his sake?

 _We'll kill her. We won't fail twice._

The answer came from the shadows around him; within him. When he thought about it, it was a surprisingly obvious solution, wasn't it? That magic had been so excited that their goal was finally within reach, and yet he had prevented it from killing Wendy; from tasting the first blood of the apocalypse. It wouldn't let that happen again. Its resolve was stronger now, and so was his. The girl was gone; his plan hadn't been hindered in the slightest by her unexpected appearance. It didn't change anything.

"Yes," he mused, out loud. "But not too quickly. I at least want to see _her_ suffer."

Its amusement was indistinguishable from his own. He heard Erza's footsteps, drawing closer and closer to him. He sensed her predictable determination in the steady pulsing of her magic, and felt some measure of control return to him. He knew how Erza thought. Wendy had always been incomprehensible to him; he had been unprepared for her. Erza was the total opposite. She would play along. She would make sure this day ended exactly as he had intended it to.

So he sat on his throne in the room of shadows and found himself smiling once again. Wendy was gone forever. Now, the fun could truly begin.


	31. All That I Will Ever Need

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-All That I Will Ever Need-**

Something was wrong.

It was nothing more than a feeling, a nagging doubt in the back of his mind, but it was pervasive. He was thinking of little else but that, even as he pivoted easily on one foot and drove his knee into Natsu's gut. The young mage who had dared to challenge him let out a choking cry, right before the force triumphed over his inertia and flung him back into the side of the Tower with a resounding smack.

He winced – not in sympathy with Natsu, of course, but with the Tower, which had acquired several new cracks in the wake of that impact. He had to be more careful. Even though he was reining in the destructive tendency of his magic as much as possible, his opponent was doing the exact opposite, and the Tower had taken so much damage already. The energy it contained was leaking out at an alarming rate.

Yet the most worrying thing wasn't necessarily the loss of power – Etherion had always been overkill for what he needed. It was that its energy was useless to him if it wasn't in the right pattern; the one enforced upon it by the perfect construction of the R-System and the magic he had woven into it over eight long years. The Tower itself was that energy's restraint, and it was rapidly losing its form. Much more of this and not even his iron will would be able to keep it locked into the shape he needed. And it was becoming more and more difficult to focus on holding it in its form and stopping the mage in front of him from breaking it beyond repair, while that uncomfortable feeling grew and grew.

It had all been going so well. The moment Erza had arrived, his brief moment of disconcertment had vanished. She had been perfect, absolutely perfect. He could not have asked for more. She was as beautiful as he remembered and every bit the phenomenal mage he had wished for her to be; that very real danger only compounded his exhilaration. Without the stronger half of his magic, he couldn't beat her. He had almost died. Unable to best her in battle, he had had to deceive her instead, playing on her sympathy and tricking her into laying down her blade so that they could die together when Etherion struck.

And of course they had not died.

There had been a moment of true terror when his faith in his own abilities had been tested. Would the lacrima be able to contain Etherion after all? Were the calculations he had checked and double-checked correct? It would only take one mistake, one misunderstanding, one misread parameter or one incorrect hypothesis, no matter how small, to bring this entire thing down around his head. But his fears were unfounded. His calculations had been perfect, as had his understanding of the competing magical forces involved in the tenuous equilibrium.

No; they had knelt there, his arms around her and hers around him, and the sacred light had rained down, and they had not died, because everything was going according to his plan. And as the penny dropped, and Erza realized that this miracle was all his doing, her kindness and her sympathy had evolved into pain and fury. She understood his betrayal, and it tore at her heart, and he revelled in her suffering.

He mocked her, and humiliated her, and they both knew that her death at his hands was not only inevitable, but would also mean the end of the world that she loved so much. She had tried and failed to stop him, and he had won, and in that moment, she hated him for it: for what he had done; for what he was about to do. She looked at him, and if she remembered the person he had once been, she gave no sign of it. To her, the person he was now, the villain who was on the verge of sacrificing her and resurrecting his dark god, was the only one who existed. Her fear, her anger, her hatred – that was his validation.

Yes, Erza was his perfect opponent. There was none of this _"why?"_ with her, which Wendy had demanded of him. Erza didn't question that this was all his doing, not once he had revealed the true extent of his betrayal. She did not cry for him; for the person he had become.

And it was beautiful. Incredible. He could not remember the last time he had felt such ecstasy, such sheer thrill, such incandescent joy, as the moment he had broken her and she had accepted him as Jellal.

 _Weren't you happy?_ Wendy had asked, with tears streaming down her face, and at last he had a response to give her.

 _Well, I am now, aren't I, Wendy?_

And if it wasn't a proper answer to her question, then what did he care? Victory was finally within his grasp.

In fact, he was in such a good mood that not even Natsu showing up to drag Erza out of the R-System moments before he could activate it was enough to dampen his spirits. He was hardly averse to the idea of fighting the boy. One final cataclysmic battle against a so-called hero with the fate of the world at stake seemed like a suitable way to end proceedings.

Though they had never met properly before, he had observed Natsu with keen interest on the handful of occasions that the boy's exploits had brought him before the Council. Granted, it was the magic he wielded, the legendary magic of the fire dragon, rather than the wielder himself which had so captured his attention – and, as their battle had begun, the reason for that became obvious. Dragon's fire was incredibly destructive; in the hands of a competent mage, it was deadly, even to him. He might already have lost if he hadn't been able to access his original magic to help him fight.

But he had. Now that Etherion had fired, he no longer had any need for a presence in the Council. He had let his projection dissolve and taken that core of magic back into himself. For the first time in eight months he was back at full strength, with that astounding power of a Wizard Saint in his hands once again.

And that was when the problems had begun.

It wasn't that his magic wasn't obeying him. If it was resentful that it had had to be apart from him for so long, then that feeling was more than compensated for by their mutual joy at being reunited. Besides, his desires were its desires. This close to the culmination of their dream, it would not hesitate to give him everything he asked for, and more.

It had even killed for him. It wasn't easy for that magic to kill in its natural form, certainly not when compared to his other dark powers, and he had first had to bind it into a form where it would be capable of killing outright, but it had had no qualms about doing so – no, it had done it gladly, for his sake. And even though it had been Simon who died, rather than Erza or Natsu, the simple fact that he had been able to do it confirmed that he had never been more powerful than he was right now. His resonance with the light inside him had never been stronger.

And that was the source of his unrest. In the ecstasy of clashing with Erza, surrounded by the glorious shine of the captured Etherion, the confirmation of his true purpose, it had been ever so easy to push his encounter with Wendy and his inability to kill her out of his mind. When his power had returned to him, however, it had brought those doubts back in full force. It was refusing to ignore the repercussions of that encounter, and right now, he was so tightly bound to it that if it would not push them aside, neither could he.

There was a part of him that demanded an answer to her question, and it would not be pacified, no matter how much he projected his anger onto the enemy in front of him.

And that was an unforeseen problem – a problem that manifested as hesitation when he needed to be swift; as doubt when he needed to be certain; as a distraction when he needed to focus.

As if on cue, he missed a motion that, on any other day, would have been obvious to his battle instincts. Natsu's brief retreat was only a feint, and as he followed automatically, noticing the boy's trap a moment too late, a fist blazing with fire connected with his chin. There was strength in that blow, enough to crush the bones of a normal man, but he was far from normal, and the power reinforcing his body held firm even as the force of the attack catapulted him into the air.

Dragon Force, he concluded, was yet another problem to add to his ever-growing list. He had known Natsu would be powerful – even hoped for it – but the window in which the energy captured by the Tower would retain enough of its shape to allow the R-System's activation was shrinking rapidly, and as his magic continued to wrestle with discomforting thoughts, this fight was becoming less and less enjoyable, and more of a nuisance. And as he had been about to stop playing around and put an end to it once and for all, the idiot of a Dragon Slayer had spontaneously decided to consume Etherion… and rather than killing him instantly, as would have been appropriate, it had only gone and induced in him the legendary state known as Dragon Force.

It was something he had only ever read about, but even as he marvelled at seeing it with his own eyes and wondered if anyone else alive had ever witnessed it, a pathetic opponent had suddenly become an extremely dangerous one. Natsu was shrugging off damage that should have torn his body apart; the furious flames the boy was creating were becoming more and more difficult for him to disperse. Then there was the fact that he didn't dare risk going overboard and damaging the already-fragile Tower, plus he couldn't channel the magic of the R-System to help him when it was locked into the pattern that would, as soon as he got a free moment, allow him to repeal the laws of life and death… well, he loved a challenge, but he hated to lose. Failure only reminded him of his failure to kill Wendy; gave him doubt in what should have been his greatest moment. Destroying Natsu was no longer just something to keep himself entertained – it was necessary. The brat had to die, and Erza had to be sacrificed.

He hadn't been idle as he was recovering from the blow Natsu had dealt him. He was still in mid-air when light burst from his palms, intending to strike the boy down while he had the advantage of range. His opponent had other ideas. The floor cracked beneath Natsu as he launched himself upwards to meet him. Those angry dragon's flames erupted around them, devouring the golden light and seeking out its caster.

Raw power radiated unbidden from his body, repelling the flames before they could touch him, but that moment was all Natsu needed to strike him again and then they were both falling towards the ground. It was the floor that broke under the impact, rather than either of the grappling mages. Razor-sharp shards of crystal exploded around them and they kept falling, deeper into the Tower.

He thought that there was something familiar about the way Natsu was using Dragon Force. As one part of him was struggling to fight off the boy in freefall and panicking about the damage their headlong flight was doing to the R-System, the other part was absently analysing his opponent's magic as if this wasn't a life-or-death battle. There was so much raw power surging through Natsu's body, almost enough to rival his own, but he didn't know how to use it. The boy was fighting in the same way he always did, completely unaware of what he could achieve if he harnessed that magic appropriately. That ignorance was almost insulting to watch. And more than that, it reminded him of the first time he had really started using his own magic for real.

That had been the day he and Wendy met in the Worth Woodsea, hadn't it?

When circumstances had left him with no choice but to fight alongside, rather than against, the Rune Knights.

When that girl had been in danger, and he had been forced to save her life, and risk everything for the sake of strangers and enemies.

And if he hadn't fought in front of the men from the Council, there would have been no need to conceal his dark powers, and he might never have been forced to rely upon the magic he had been born to – and he would never have discovered just how powerful it was. He couldn't possibly have developed so rapidly as a mage without that exceptional resonance with his own magic. His motives may have been entirely selfish, but if he hadn't helped them, there was no way he would be standing here today, one of the strongest mages on the whole continent, so in tune with his own magic that he could even hear its voice calling to him.

 _So what?_ A ferocious question, turned inwards. _I protected my enemies so that they, in turn, would protect me from the Council. If I hadn't, they would have executed me. What point, exactly, are you trying to make?_

There was no answer. After all, there was no one _to_ answer. There was only his own question, echoing back at him through the darkness.

And right now, he fervently wished that he couldn't feel the emotions of his magic, because the middle of battle was hardly the best place to be remembering meaningless incidents from a life he had discarded. He dragged his attention back to the fight with an effort. They were still in freefall, and the air was his domain; he could finish this in an instant if he stopped letting himself be distracted.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than his magic was there, turning his fall into a controlled flight. With that power surging through him, he kicked Natsu away from him, and then reversed direction almost instantaneously and slammed the Dragon Slayer into the wall. He pinned him there for a moment, as fragments of glowing crystal bigger than he was tumbled down around them, and the two of them glared at each other with sheer hatred.

This time, he was paying full attention; he easily saw the attack coming. An instant before the explosion of flames could touch him, he released his grip on the boy and shot up towards the hole in the ceiling. Natsu could stay safely down here. He would go and sacrifice Erza to the living R-System while it was still usable.

Natsu wasn't prepared to give him that chance. He had thought the boy earthbound, but the physical enhancements granted to him by Dragon Force had other ideas. Natsu's inhuman strength let him leap upwards faster than gravity could pull him back down; his agility made stepping stones of the falling crystal rocks. With fire spiralling around his arms, and flames pouring like wings from his back, the Dragon Slayer swung at him in mid-air.

But it was almost effortlessly that he dodged it. Natsu was tenacious, but that alone did not equate to skill. He could have laughed. He would not be beaten in the air by a mage who couldn't even fly. Far too fast to be caught, he shot through the air with ease.

Just like a shooting star.

That was what Wendy had called him, on that day when they had flown together through the glorious shining sky. When he had stopped giving orders to his magic, and started listening to it; when he no longer bound it to the earth and instead set it free to take its true form.

Usually, if magic evolved, it did so through combat. Survival instinct, resonance with its wielder, the strength of feeling that only mortal danger could evoke – those things, in the heat of battle, could occasionally cause it to surpass its limits and take on a new form, just as Natsu's Dragon Force was doing to his body right now. But him? His magic had responded, not to danger, or to a desire to win, but to the wish of a child. There had been a moment when he had wanted to help her more than he wanted anything else in the world, and his magic had made it possible.

Not that it made a difference. Power was power. How he had obtained it was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that, by turning the entire sky into his playground, it had incredible combat potential.

 _Will we ever be able to fly like that again?_

His heart jolted with an echo of the freedom he had felt when he had soared through the sky on that day; of flying not for battle, or for transportation, but for its own sake.

A scowl danced across his face. Of course he would. Once the R-System was active and his plan fulfilled, there would be true freedom. He could do what he liked.

Or could he? Only, in that promised world of death and ruin, would there be any room for…

For _what,_ exactly?

For something he couldn't quite put his finger on. For something he did not know how to describe. For something that absolutely should not have been occupying his mind when he was fighting to the death against a dangerous Dragon Slayer.

Because, once again, that thought came as a reprimand rather than a warning. It was too late to have been a warning. While he had been distracted by incoherent thoughts, he hadn't noticed Natsu closing in on him with fire bursting from his feet, and the next thing he knew there was an explosion of pain from within his body, and it was his turn to be thrown back against the gleaming crystal wall of the Tower.

The golden light around him flickered, but not once did it fail him. Power flooded like adrenaline into his body, drowning out the pain; he couldn't have fallen more than a metre or two before he was in controlled flight once again. Natsu was plunging down towards him, his blazing fist raised to strike again.

From nowhere there was suddenly terrifying anger bursting through him. He dealt with it in the only way he knew how: by channelling it towards a tangible target. If physical attacks couldn't penetrate Dragon Force's scales, he would simply allow his magic free rein instead. Easily dodging Natsu's overhasty blow, he pressed his right hand against the boy's chest, and his fury became sheer power, ripping through the other's body as an enormous beam of energy. He did not stop it, not even when Natsu began to scream in agony; he just kept compelling that magic to manifest as pain in this world, as if he could force all those thoughts out of his body along with his power.

There came the distinct sensation of something tearing, and it wasn't anything physical, but a horrible, sickening feeling in his mind. Suddenly overwhelmed by panic, he ordered that terrible light to stop, even though his opponent was not yet dead. The momentary madness dissipated along with the power, but it had done its job. Ethereal blue fragments rained down all around him. He remembered, too late, what he had forgotten in his blinding need to inflict suffering on another; why he had been confining himself to physical attacks rather than unleashing his true power. His frustrated scream tore through the air.

The vital structure of the R-System's magic was disintegrating by the second. Would it still work? Maybe. Maybe, if he activated it right now. Leaving Natsu to plummet into the depths of the Tower, he shot skywards, returning to the chamber at the very top, where Erza was even now struggling to get to her feet. She had sensed the enormous release of magic power; had felt the reverberations of the fracturing crystal through the floor. Seeing him return alone only confirmed her fears.

Though she lacked even the strength to stand, there was conviction in her voice; defiant until the end. That was his Erza. "Jellal! What did you do to Natsu?"

There was no need for him to respond to that. He snapped his fingers and the shadows came alive, dragging her upright. She struggled, but to no avail; those bonds of living darkness held her firmly in place as he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her neck. The magic of this place tugged at his mind with impatience. The crystal would still accept her as its living sacrifice. The degenerating magic would hold its shape for a little longer, if he did it now.

"Jellal!" Erza howled, not begging for her life, but desperately seeking to stop the destruction her death would bring to the world. That one word was a curse upon him, and he loved the unequivocal hostility it held.

Everything had been for this moment. All he had to do was push her into the crystal, and-

And then, would he be happy?

The obvious answer was yes, but it came to him without conviction, and without conviction, he paused with Erza still helpless in his grip.

But what did it matter? Feelings such as that had never held any meaning for him. Everything he had done, every single step taken on this path, every deed carried out in service of the Council and every false relationship formed with those around him, and each and every waking moment for the last eight years – it had all been for this final victory.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

That which had given him his purpose had not promised him happiness. It had never been the point of all this.

 _I don't think I even know what happiness is._

But it didn't matter. It didn't matter one bit. Screaming his denial to the world, he forced Erza into the R-System – or he would have done, if the floor hadn't buckled beneath him and thrown them both to the floor. Tremors ran through it, shockwaves of an earthquake, as an almighty force shook the Tower to its very foundations.

As always, he bounded straight to his feet and was immediately in the air, safe from the heaving crystal. His magic kicked in not a moment too soon, as only milliseconds later there came an explosion right where he had been standing. Natsu burst through the floor. His entire body was cloaked in flames, defying gravity to blaze in the form of a dragon, complete with widespread wings and a spiralling tail.

How was he doing that? From where had the defeated boy suddenly gained that sort of power? Determination alone could not-

And he saw, just for a moment, Natsu's gaze flash over to Erza, and there was something in the boy's eyes that he understood. Natsu wasn't fighting for himself. He was fighting for Erza, and by extension, for all those in the world that he loved, and sought to protect. That desire gave the Dragon Slayer unimaginable strength; that resolve allowed him to draw out power from inside him that he hadn't even been aware he possessed.

There was a part of him that wondered how he knew this was the source of the boy's power, but it was quickly lost in the tide of fury sweeping him away.

Their eyes met, and Natsu seemed to grin. "Even if I can't beat you, I can still stop you. I told you I was good at destroying things." And then, without giving him a chance to react, Natsu placed both his palms against the ground and sent all those flames racing forth into the R-System. The boy knew that using up all his power like this would leave him completely vulnerable, but he no longer cared what happened to himself, as long as those he wanted to protect could be safe.

The R-System, so meticulously constructed, so lovingly shaped, didn't stand a chance against the ravenous fire of the dragon. Lines of flames streaked out in all directions. Cracks appeared wherever they touched. Whole chunks of crystal, large enough to crush either of the combatants to death, tore free of the lacrima and plunged into the sea. But more than that, far worse than the destruction of the Tower of Heaven, was the shattering of the magic contained within it. Its prison was broken. Its beautiful form dissolved into meaningless white noise.

Eight years of work, gone in an instant.

All he had ever wanted, forever beyond his reach.

Because he had hesitated. Because he had been weak. Because the dark resolve that had driven him for eight years had, in the end, proven insufficient to overcome his own confusion; his own self-doubt; the uncertainty that had come from within himself.

He was completely motionless. The broken pieces of his dream rained down all around him and still he did not react.

Just like that, he had lost everything.

 _No. I already lost everything a long time ago, didn't I?_

And through the numbness there came something he had not been expecting: a distant feeling of relief. The decision over whether or not to activate the R-System had been taken out of his hands.

Then, as if in retaliation to that dazed, baffling, incomprehensible response, there rose a furious roar that drowned out everything else. Someone was screaming and it took far longer than it should have done for him to realize that person was him.

He had been left with nothing. So, he would do exactly the same to his opponents. He would take everything away from them too.

He was in the air with no recollection of how he had got there. The black of the night sky was behind him, visible through the gaping holes in what had once been the top of the Tower of Heaven. Never truly pitch-black, tiny pinpricks of light shone valiantly through its darkness. If he had looked, he might have seen the distant flash of a shooting star.

But he did not look. He cared for nothing but the magic raging rampant through his body, as a snapped command forced it into the form of a great silvery seal in front of his palms.

Erza recognized that magic. She had never witnessed it herself, but she had heard the stories; anyone who paid any attention at all to current affairs would have known it on sight. "Abyss Break?" she demanded, in terrified disbelief. "Do you intend to destroy the Tower, and everything in it? Jellal!"

Yes. That was exactly what he intended. He would destroy them, just like he would destroy _everything_ that stood in his way.

Except his opponents had vanished. He was no longer standing in the ruined Tower, but on a battlefield from his past: a memory so sudden and strong that the real world could not hope to compete.

The stars had been above him too on that day, watching from the vast open skies that he had taken such joy in flying through so freely. Rather than the otherworldly blue gleam of the lacrima, the light had stemmed from the natural beauty of the setting sun, bright enough to guide their way but not so bright as to conceal those shining stars. That battlefield had, in its own way, been beautiful. He had not fought upon it alone.

In his mind's eye, he saw an enemy that was hatred given the form of a draconic beast, which knew nothing but destruction. He had not feared it, or hated it – he had pitied it, for he had seen something of his younger self in it, and he knew that no one was coming to save it. In his hands, he had held the very same magic he was going to turn upon the Tower, only he wasn't using it to commit murder. This magic, that he was about to use to erase all traces of his opponents from the earth, had been born not out of hatred, but…

…Out of a desire to protect.

To protect this world, and all the stupid, wonderful things in it.

To protect hundreds of innocent people he had never even met from being forced into a fight they couldn't possibly win.

And to protect those he had fought alongside; who might even, if only he had realized it back then, have been his friends.

He remembered what he had come to understand on that day: that there was, somewhere deep within him, an instinct that drove him to protect those around him, and it was every bit as strong as the instinct that drove him to destroy. It was a part of him; to fully reject it would have been to reject himself. He couldn't have activated the Tower any more than he could have abandoned it. His magic, which mirrored his true feelings exactly, knew that. No wonder it had been so insistent that something was wrong at the moment of his greatest victory.

And he wondered how he had ever come to believe that those things weren't real. Fighting side by side with Matthias, who had truly understood his love of combat and of magic and had shared in his excitement for the most dangerous, most rewarding missions. Working together with Lahar in a relationship founded on mutual respect, who was kind and dependable and who cared for Wendy almost as much as he himself did. And then Wendy herself, jumping into his arms at the moment of the victory they had won together, and a feeling he had had no words to describe…

 _You're right._

 _I was happy, wasn't I, Wendy?_

Why had he ever given that up?

He had known, on the day that everything had fallen apart through a dreadful twist of fate and Matthias had come to the Tower, that one of them had had to die. But what if he had let Jellal be the one to die that day? If only he'd stopped and thought things through, he could have sent a warning on ahead to the Tower. Matthias would have arrived to find it deserted. The R-System would have been destroyed by the Council, and the remainder of his cult disbanded. Jellal would have escaped, but after a few months spent trying and failing to find him, the Council would have concluded that he had fled the kingdom for good, never to be heard from again… and he could have lived out the rest of his life as Siegrain.

Working for the Council, alongside the people he had come to care about without even realizing it – would that really have been so bad?

Only now, at the end of everything, did he understand the question that Matthias had posed to him on that day.

 _Siegrain… why…?_

"Because I'm a fool, Matthias," he whispered. "A fool who didn't realize the value of anything he had until he had already given it up."

He closed his eyes, and he might have smiled. The power swirling around his palms faded away to nothing. He would not kill these enemies with magic that he and Wendy had created together in order to protect the people they loved.

"I guess it's far too late for me to start apologizing now," he continued softly. "So let me say this instead."

He saw Natsu rushing towards him. The last of the dragon's fire shone around the boy's fist. He saw his death in that fire, and again, he found himself smiling.

"Thank you."

Sensing the danger, his magic stirred within him, confused as to why he wasn't calling it forth. It asked of him, _Aren't we going to fight?_ And he told it: _No. Not this time._ And, because it was him and he was it, it understood.

"Thank you, everyone. For letting me live a normal life. For showing me kindness. For standing by my side. For believing in me, when I never deserved it. I really was happy."

He found the power within him and pushed it all away: both the magic he had been born to, and the magic he had not. He sealed them both outside his body. They could not protect him now, even if they wanted to.

"Wendy… you never gave up on me, even though I had long since given up on myself. I have no right to call myself your best friend, but I hope that you will let me, just this once."

Fire was tearing through his defenceless body, and he did not even notice it. He had already left this world behind.

"For showing a man like me what it meant to be truly happy… thank you."

And he fell into the darkness and was gone.


	32. Into the Light, You and I

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Into the Light, You and I-**

In the darkness, there was a light. It came to him gently, like the break of day; emanating from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The soft blue banished the grip of the night. In the warmth of that light, it was difficult to remember what the total darkness had been like.

In the void, there was feeling. It too came slowly; a growing awareness of a physical world beyond the light-bathed realm in which he floated. This world had an orientation defined by gravity, a solidity that was painful to his newly awakened senses, and something of a notion of time. He also had physical extent, in the form of a body which did not react at all to his tentative suggestions, but he thought it might if he tried harder. There was a feeling he could not attribute to any of his new senses, and he thought it was probably magic, unsure of what to make of this slow awakening, or of the fact that they were awakening at all.

In the emptiness, there was identity. He first knew it by its absence: there was a power within him, and he knew nothing about it other than that it did not belong to him. That distinction between his magic and another's established a sense of self, and from there, memories began to emerge. When he knew who he was, he could guess at where he was, and he could begin to understand how he had got there and what was happening to him. The information he was receiving from his senses began to acquire meaning. And the magic flowing within him yet was not his found, in those memories, recognition; an aching sense of familiarity.

And in the silence, there was a voice. It was at once unimaginably distant and impossibly loud. Tearful and joyful, it shouted a name that might, once, have been his.

"Siegrain! You're alive!"

More and more things fell into place. The blue light was that of Etherion, sealed within a crystal prison that was steadily breaking down. There was a distant rumbling in the air, growing stronger by the minute; a herald of danger. He remembered the failure of his plan, and his own failure to act with any conviction until it was already too late. He remembered fighting. He remembered how everything had come to an end. He thought he remembered dying, but clearly he was wrong on that count, or he couldn't be here now, sat with the wall of crystal supporting his back, gazing up into the beaming face of a young girl.

Perhaps those memories brought some semblance of life back to his eyes, because Wendy seemed to take that as the cue to jump on him. She wrapped her arms around him and clung on tightly while he was still too weak to do anything about it, and she buried her face into his chest and kept on crying tears of happiness.

"I was so worried," she told him, trembling. "You were hurt so badly I didn't think I'd be able to heal you. I thought you were going to die… but you didn't, and I am so, so glad that you're alive." And her grip tightened, as if to say that she was never ever going to let him get so close to death again.

For a long time, he did not move. He neither pushed her away from him nor returned her embrace – he just kept staring at her. When he did eventually speak, his voice was quiet; completely without emotion. "Why?"

"If you're asking why she made me fly her all the way back here in order to save you after you tried to kill her, then don't get your hopes up," Carla interjected icily. "I'm still waiting for a satisfactory answer to that one myself."

At this, Wendy raised her head from his chest in order to shoot the cat a cross look before meeting his gaze again with shining eyes. "I know you didn't try to kill me," she told him sincerely. "In the four years that I've known you, I don't think I've ever seen you miss with magic before. If you really had been trying to kill me, I would be dead. But I know you wouldn't do that. Not ever."

The unreadable expression in his eyes didn't seem to bother her one bit. She smiled again and continued, "I had to come back, you see. I realized that there was something I had forgotten to tell you."

He blinked and said nothing.

"I just wanted to say, thank you."

"Thank you…?" he echoed, as if he didn't understand the words.

"I know you said that nothing we ever did together was real… that it doesn't mean anything, because you were only doing it in order to infiltrate the Council. But that's where you're wrong. It _was_ real. And it means _everything_ to me."

Wendy smiled at him again, silencing any protest he might have been about to make. "You were there for me when I was alone. Because of you, I got to leave my guild and see and do so many things – and everything was always so bright when you were around, like I'd never even known before. You gave me a reason to look forward to each new day! Everything we did together – catching dark guilds, fighting together, going to the beach, or going camping, or just being able to walk through the city with you on another ordinary day – it made me so happy, and nothing can take those memories away from me."

There were tears in her eyes now, but her voice was still stronger; ardent determination and her earnest heart. "It's because of you that I was able to believe in myself. It's because of you that I had the courage to make friends, with the Knights and with Carla! It's because of you that I'm not afraid of the future any more, or of being left alone. You believed in me, and you were there for me, and you were kind to me, and that's why I can be strong, and keep moving forward! It's because of you that I can be here right now!

"My feelings are real, and don't you dare try to tell me that they're not! I am who I am because of you, and nothing will _ever_ change that!" She paused for a moment to wipe away her tears, and she was still shaking, but her words were calmer now, and steady. "Whether that was intentional or not doesn't matter. You saved me, and I am never going to forget that. And that's why I couldn't just say goodbye without also saying thank you. I had to come back, so I could tell you that."

He stared at her without saying anything, and she stared back. After a few moments of silence, she gave a tremulous smile. Finally letting go of him, she stood up and took a few paces backwards. "Okay," she said, and smiled again. "That's all I wanted to say."

"Wendy…" Carla whispered, but the girl pretended not to hear her.

"Do you still have the strength to get away from here?" she asked him. He climbed slowly to his feet, considered it for a moment, and then nodded. "Okay," she said, again. "Then you should go, before it's too late."

He made no move to leave. His gaze was fixed intently upon her, turning steadily to watch as she walked past him to what might once have been the centre of the ruined chamber. She found a spot on the floor between the gaping holes and the shattered fragments and the twisted crystal stalagmites and knelt down.

He asked, quietly, "Wendy, what are you doing?"

"This place is going to explode, isn't it?" It was a rhetorical question. She already knew the answer; he could hear that awful certainty in her voice. "I can tell. The magic in this place, it's… it's going to break free and destroy everything."

"Yes," he replied impassively. "The power of Etherion, which exists only to destroy, has fused with the unbound magic of the R-System, which was created to bring ruin to everything. The Tower can no longer contain it. The explosion will wipe out everything between here and the mainland. After detonation, catastrophe will follow. Earthquakes, tsunamis, shock waves… the devastation will be immense."

"I know. That's why you need to leave now, before that happens."

Carla, just as confused as he was, glanced between the two of them. "Wendy," she murmured. "That means we also need to get away from here… doesn't it?"

"Carla, you need to go with Siegrain. Or go back to the guild, or… or wherever, just go somewhere a long way away."

"But we'll be going together, won't we? Wendy?"

"I can't leave."

"Why not…?"

It seemed as though Wendy wasn't going to answer, so he cut in instead, and there was an echo of sternness in his voice as he repeated, "Wendy, what are you doing?"

She had tried to be brave and solemn, but she couldn't help responding to that tone, just like she always had. Glancing over her shoulder at him, she gave a nervous smile. "There were two people here when we arrived," she explained, a little shyly; almost apologetically. "There was a man, and a woman. And she was saying that she could stop the Tower from exploding. She thought she could use her magic to stabilize it. But the lacrima kept rejecting her… and before she could get it to accept her magic, she collapsed. The man carried her out, and they're gone now. But I can do it. It will definitely fuse with my support magic, and I'll be able to stabilize it and stop the explosion. I know I can."

"But… but…" Carla floundered, waving her arms wildly. "We don't need to do that, Wendy! There's no one left in the Tower, so we can all get away from here!"

"There isn't time," Wendy replied, as calmly as possible. "We might not be able to get far enough away. But even if we can… those two will still get caught in the explosion, along with the boat full of people we saw on the way in, and then there's the damage that the fallout will do to the cities on the coast… So many people are going to die if this Tower explodes. I won't let that happen. Not when I have the power to save them all."

"But what about you?" Carla howled. "What's going to happen to you?"

Wendy gave a small shrug that fooled no one. "It doesn't matter what happens to me. I don't mind dying, if it means that everyone else can live."

"But _I_ mind! You can't die, Wendy, you can't!"

"I'm sorry, Carla…"

Around the kneeling girl, ripples were spreading out through the solid crystal. She placed her palms flat against the floor and it flowed like liquid over her hands. The brightness of the lacrima all around them seemed to intensify. For a brief moment the constant tremors subsided, before returning twice as violently as before.

"No!" Carla shouted. Materializing her wings in an instant, she shot over to Wendy's side and seized the girl's arm in a vain attempt to drag her hands out of the crystal. It would not relinquish its hold on her. Perhaps in response to Carla's efforts, it surged more strongly than before, rising up out of the ground of its own accord and wrapping around the girl's waist.

"You can't do this!" the cat screamed. "We promised Master Roubaul we'd come home safely, remember?"

"I know. But, it's okay to break a promise if people's lives are in danger. This is far more important." The crystal shifted again, and an unintentional yelp of pain ruined the calm acceptance of her words. "I'm sorry, Carla. I really am…"

"Wendy…" Carla could say no more than that one word, as great wracking sobs shook her whole body.

Then Wendy's scream rose in crescendo with the blazing brightness of the lacrima, drowning out all other sounds. The living crystal continued its inexorable progress up her body. She could no longer turn her head to look at the others, but she managed to gasp, "Siegrain? You're still there, right?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to promise me something." She paused, but when there was no response, she continued ruefully, "If you get to start over, then next time in life, be nicer to people, okay? I think that if you did that, you'd be very happy, and have lots of friends."

And anything else she may have been about to say disappeared in one final heart-wrenching scream, which ended just as abruptly as the crystal fully engulfed her body.

He was not watching as she disappeared into the lacrima. He gave no sign that he had even heard her final words. He just kept staring up through the hole in the ceiling, contemplating the inky darkness beyond. Perhaps he was dreaming of the freedom it offered. At his sides, his fists were clenched.

And then he laughed, bitter and scornful, and so sudden that even Carla ceased banging her fists on the crystal encasing Wendy to look at him in horror.

"As if I'd do something like that," he laughed. "As if I could just walk away and let you die!" And his voice became a shout. "You're the one who's always going on about me being a good man, Wendy! How can you say all that and then expect me to just go along with something like this?"

He spun around suddenly and thrust his arm out to the side. _Come!_ He commanded of his magic, and there should have been no power left in his body to answer that call, but somehow, there was. A crack tore through the crystal holding Wendy's body, and then the whole thing shattered into a thousand pieces. She fell sideways and he caught her before she could hit the floor.

She was unconscious, but she was still breathing; he could hear each tiny little flutter of her heart, weak and irregular but still beating on. And, most importantly, he felt the steady ebb and flow of the magic in her veins, the most certain sign of life. He knew she was stronger than she looked. She would pull through.

Still cradling her to his chest, he fell to his knees, holding her as tightly as she had ever held him. He did not seem to notice how the Tower had begun to crumble again the moment he had pulled her free, more violently than ever before, or how close the plummeting crystal spikes came to striking them, or how the magic in the air around him was screaming at fever pitch. The entire world might as well have only consisted of him and her.

"I don't understand what you see in this world, Wendy," he whispered to her. "Or how you can care so much about its people that you would willingly give up your life to protect those you've never even met."

And he held her a little tighter. "But I did understand once, didn't I? And I have the strangest feeling that if I only had more time to spend with you, I would come to understand it again." And he added softly, "If I only… had more time…"

He took a deep breath and laid her gently down on the ground beside him. His next words formed a command. "Carla, take her away from here."

Despite the rocks raining down on them from above, the cat hurried over to them. She grabbed Wendy's sleeve, though she paused before taking to the air. "But… when this place explodes…"

"It isn't going to explode. I won't let it."

"You…"

A dozen magic seals flashed into existence in front of him. Raising his hands, he began to manipulate each one in turn, dragging them into an arrangement that made sense only to him: changing the structure of the magic; enforcing a different set of rules upon it; bringing order out of chaos.

He didn't have nearly as much time as he would have liked. Without a chance to consult any reference texts or run any simulations, he was working entirely on instinct, and the chance of getting it right first time was almost non-existent. But he knew this magic. He had built it himself, from the ground up. He would bind it to his will one final time.

"I don't have Wendy's gift," he told Carla. "I can't stabilize the magic. The best I can do is redirect all that energy elsewhere, and if you're still here when that happens, you'll die. You need to take Wendy and go, right now."

Exhaling slowly, he let the awareness of the magic fade from his senses. "Alright. That should work. Self-destruct magic." Then, upon noticing that the cat still hadn't moved, he shot her a ferocious glare. "Carla. Leave. _Now_."

"But… you…"

A small, sad smile touched his lips. "Don't you think it's a little late to start pretending that you like me now?"

"I don't… I never hated you…"

"This is the best outcome for all of us, isn't it? The crisis is averted, you and Wendy get to live, and I… well, I would already be dead if she hadn't come back."

He pressed his fingertips to the crystal floor. It pressed back, completely solid. Wariness was its defence. If it suspected what he was doing – that its will and his were no longer aligned – it would refuse to accept him as its master, just like it had rejected Erza, and he would not be able to control it. Narrowing his eyes, he pushed harder against it, pulling all that was left of his magic into the palms of his hands and forcing that into the lacrima. This Tower belonged to him and him alone. He would make it recognize him.

And, slowly but surely, he felt it begin to give under the pressure. The solid surface slowly parted, and then the force opposing him vanished and his hands were inside the crystal.

It happened so quickly. It was only his panicked reflex that saved him from falling in completely. He had been calm before, and now there was a spark of terror deep within him. It had him now. His death was inevitable. And he didn't want to die. He wanted to go back with Wendy. He wanted to go on another adventure with her; wanted to fight by her side; wanted to see her smile for him one more time-

But more than that, more than any of those stupid, selfish things, he wanted to protect her.

"Carla," he whispered, in a voice that was calm; lucid; accepting. "Please, go now. I promise I will protect the world that she loves. So, please. Stay by her side. Make sure that she never has to feel alone again."

"As if I need you to tell me that," she retorted, and if there was a slight tremor to her haughty stubbornness that had never been present before, he pretended not to notice it.

And then the cat left. He knew she and Wendy were gone because the magic told him so. At last, he and it were alone in the Tower, and he could give it his full and undivided attention. It swirled thick in the air around him, and blazed like fire within him, entering his body through the physical connection he had formed with the lacrima that bound it. Its desire to destroy poured into him. With the familiarity of an old friend, he greeted it; accepted it; pitied it.

Oh, there was a part of him that wanted to seize that power and set it free. He could channel it all through his body and let it run rampant through this world; become, once again, the being of pure destruction begotten in death and fire underneath the mountain. There would always be a part of him which sought that power, and he accepted that.

But not today. No one else would die today. He would not allow it.

Alarm burst like fireworks through the magic around him, and somehow, he managed to laugh. "Oh, it seems you're finally catching on," he told it gleefully, stealing one last moment of satisfaction from its dawning comprehension. "I won't let you lay a finger upon this world. We're going into the sky together, you and I."

It sensed his thoughts and found the danger in them. It realized, too late, what he was doing to it; what he had already done. Pain shot through him, and he let himself scream, knowing that there was no one around to hear him. The power surging through him was no longer curious, but violent: like knives in his veins, like lightning; burning, suffocating, breaking every part of him it could reach, and he died a thousand times over and yet did not die, because his resolve was too strong for that.

He laughed again; proximity to death gave him a dizzy, light-headed ecstasy. It could not break him like this, and it knew it. It turned its attention instead to the magic he had constructed around it. Desperate to break out of the self-destructive pattern he had woven it into, that power, more than was possessed by all the mages on the continent put together, hurled itself at him time and time again and his will alone forced it back. The incredible raw power of Etherion and the insatiable hunger of the R-System, and still it could not overcome him. He was the Master of the Tower. He would not be beaten here.

And then there was nothing, nothing but light. Brilliant; blazing; ferocious; consuming – the magic's hatred, and his own, became part of that beautiful, beautiful light, flowing towards the sky. It erased everything, that light: his senses, his pain, his life. Burning up in the heart of a star; a glorious way to die.

He did not feel sadness. No, being able to die like that for her was a privilege he didn't deserve.

A feeling of wonder, of forgiveness, of hope.

 _There. I did it. Were you watching, Wendy? Are you proud of me?_

The last thing he remembered of the physical world was trying to smile, and being unable to, for his body no longer existed.

 _We'll meet again. Someday, in a world far beyond this one… I'll be waiting._

And then the light was gone, and so was he.

* * *

"Wendy!"

Carla awoke with her friend's name already a shout on her lips. Anxious, she scrambled to her feet, heart pounding, desperately blinking back the darkness, calling out Wendy's name again. There was no response – none, save for the sound of the wind dancing amongst the branches and rustling the canvas of the tents.

It was a familiar sound, one that evoked memories of home; of safety; of curling up and falling asleep with Wendy in front of a campfire during the peaceful summer nights. As her conscious mind stirred itself into wakefulness and reason caught up with her once more, Carla felt her racing heartbeat begin to slow. It wasn't as dark here as she had thought; a single lantern shone its warm orange glow from the corner of the tent. There was nothing to be scared of. This was home.

Everything that had happened in the Tower of Heaven came back to her in a rush. She remembered carrying Wendy's unconscious form away as the Tower imploded behind them. She remembered flying until her whole body felt heavy and she could no longer feel Wendy's weight in her numb paws and her wings burned like they were on fire, and still she hadn't stopped. After that, everything in her memory was just one great blur of pain, but something must have gone right because she was back in Cait Shelter; back home.

The sound of running footsteps caught her attention. She glanced towards the tent flap in time to see Master Roubaul draw the fabric aside and enter, another lantern in his hand.

When his gaze fell upon her, his eyes lit up with a relief that the stern tone he attempted to force into his voice couldn't quite mask. "Carla, what are you doing out of bed?"

The cat didn't flinch. "Where's Wendy?"

With a sigh, the old man relented. "She's in the medical tent. But, Carla, she's-"

Carla was already gone. She did not have enough energy left to manifest her wings so she ran instead, paying no heed to the harshness of the stones beneath her paws. The full moon bathed the village in its tender light.

"Wendy!" she shouted again, barrelling straight into the medical tent, with Master Roubaul right behind her.

The girl was sat up in bed, with the covers pulled loosely all around her, and she turned her head slightly at the sound of Carla's entrance. "Wendy!" the cat repeated, and this time her voice was filled with joy.

"Carla?" came the response, and there was something uncharacteristically hesitant about it. "Carla, you're there, aren't you?"

"I'm here, Wendy, of course I'm here." Puzzled, Carla noticed for the first time that Wendy wasn't looking at her at all, but at a point somewhere above her head. "Wendy… can't you see me?"

With an apologetic smile, Wendy shook her head, sending small undulations flowing through her hair. "I'm sorry, Carla…"

"What are you apologizing for?" the cat snapped. She jumped up onto the bed and grabbed Wendy's hand between her paws. "I'm right here, Wendy, see? So there's no need to worry." And the girl's grip tightened around her own, and a soft smile lit up her face.

"I did try to tell you," Roubaul pointed out quietly.

Carla ignored the reprimand. "Is she going to be like this forever?"

"It's hardly my area of expertise, but I believe she'll recover, if we give her time to rest."

"I couldn't hear either when I woke up," Wendy added, with a touch of her usual cheerfulness, as if being unable to see didn't bother her in the slightest. "And that was _really_ scary. But I can now, even if everything's a bit… echoey. So I'm sure I'll be able to see again soon."

"It's a result of being exposed to an incredible amount of raw magical energy, far more than the human body can ordinarily cope with," Roubaul explained to Carla. "Any longer, and the damage would have been permanent. She's lucky to even be alive."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Wendy said quietly.

Though Wendy couldn't see the unhappy scowl that crossed the old man's face at that admission, Carla could. The cat added, "Talk about cutting it fine. Seriously, couldn't he have pulled you out of there any sooner?"

At her words, a slight tremor ran through Wendy's smile, and she bit her lip. Carla immediately regretted opening her mouth. "Wendy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

But the girl just shook her head, smiling once more. "That's alright. I know you didn't."

Roubaul gave a quiet cough. "As I was telling Wendy earlier, if there is any permanent sensory impairment, it will be related to her ability to perceive magic," he said, to change the subject. "Worst case scenario, she may never be able to use magic again."

"But…"

"I don't think it'll come to that," Wendy interrupted brightly. "I can still sense my magic. It's just a bit… sleepy." An achingly familiar frown crossed her face as she tried to find a way to put what she was feeling into words. "Remember when we went under the mountain with Siegrain that time and his magic went all funny? Well, my magic kind of feels like his looked then. But his got better, so I'm sure mine will too."

"Wendy…" Carla murmured, wondering how on earth the girl could say something like that with her usual bright smile on her face.

There was silence, and then Wendy said suddenly, "Thank you, Carla."

"…Whatever for?"

"For taking me all the way to the Tower of Heaven, and for agreeing to go back there even after we both nearly died. You were so brave… and you brought me all the way safely back to the guild as well. So, thank you… for doing all that for me."

Her friend's praise should have made her happy, but it somehow didn't sit right. Images flashed through her mind from the last few minutes in the Tower, and before she knew it, her voice was a bewildered shout. "But it wasn't me! I wasn't the one who saved you! I couldn't do _anything!_ But Siegrain, Siegrain he-"

"I know," Wendy interrupted her, calm and gentle. "I know what he did. I heard his voice… one final time."

Then how was she still smiling? "But Wendy!" Carla protested, desperate; confused. "I don't understand! Aren't you sad?"

"Of course I'm sad. I feel like I could break apart into a million pieces at any moment. But…" She turned her blank gaze towards the canvas overhead and saw a sky that was entirely in her mind. "Siegrain didn't die instead of me so that I would be sad. He did it so that I could be happy. So, I have to keep living. I've got to keep smiling, no matter what."

"Wendy…"

"One day, I know we will meet again," Wendy said, and she gave the most beautiful, most heart-wrenching smile that Carla had ever seen. "And when we do, I'm going to tell him about all the things that I've been able to do because of him. I'm going to go on so many adventures, and help so many people, and make so many friends, and learn so much… and he'll be so proud of me. That's why I've got to be strong."

"But… Wendy…" Carla couldn't say anything more than that, because there was a strange lump in her throat, and her eyes were full of tears.

"Carla," Wendy chided her reproachfully. "There's not much point in me trying to be brave here if you're just going cry anyway…"

Carla gave a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "I'm not crying," she sniffed. " _Not_ over him; I'm _not!_ "

With a knowing smile, Wendy began stroking her friend's trembling fur. "It's alright. I won't tell him."

"Well… then maybe just this once, I'll cry so that you don't have to."

At that, Wendy immediately drew her friend into a tight embrace, and the proud cat was sobbing helplessly in her arms. "Thank you, Carla," she whispered. "Thank you."

There they remained for the rest of the night, sharing each other's sorrow and affirming each other's hope. All that night, their Guild Master watched over them with unending compassion, and looked fondly upon how much his daughters had grown. And with their resolve to bravely face the future sworn in the silence of their vigil, the sun rose over the mage guild Cait Shelter, and morning came at last.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Well. This is, technically, the end of the story. It's as far as I intended to go when I started writing. However, I feel as though there is one more scene that still needs to be written - both to bring everything full circle, and also to bring the end of the story slightly more in line with canon, so that I can leave it in a place from which canon could comfortably pick up. So thank you for sticking with me this far, and I hope you will join me for one final chapter next week just to round everything off. ~CS_


	33. Epilogue

**Maiden of the Sky, Master of the Tower**

By CrimsonStarbird

* * *

 **-Epilogue-**

 **-(One Day, I Know We Will Meet Again)-**

 **October, X784**

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

Lahar's polite, formal statement received no response, not even a grunt of acknowledgement. Under ordinary circumstances, he might have been irritated by it, but he completely understood this hostile reaction. It had been enough of a surprise that Master Roubaul had consented to this meeting in the first place.

After all, they hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms. Lahar had encouraged Wendy to fly to the Tower of Heaven against the express wish of her Guild Master, and though, by all accounts, she was back to her usual lively self by now, she hadn't escaped from that encounter entirely unscathed on the inside, and he knew that Roubaul held him partially responsible for that. He understood all too well why the old man might not be pleased to see him again.

Two months had passed since that incident, and this was the first time since then that Lahar had dared to venture up to Cait Shelter. He sat cross-legged on a rug in the Guild Master's hut, opposite the man himself, who made eye contact with him only rarely and bore a scarily disapproving expression when he did so. There were a few other members of the guild in the room with them – village elders, Lahar supposed – but there was no sign of Wendy. He had been hoping that he might be able to see her, but also dreading it, and it was no small part of him that was glad she wasn't around while he delivered his message.

Master Roubaul clearly wasn't going to say anything – he was glaring at Lahar as if he wished the Knight would just hurry up and leave – so Lahar continued speaking instead, as confidently as his nerves would allow. "In a few days' time, three of the most powerful mage guilds in the kingdom – Fairy Tail, Lamia Scale and Blue Pegasus – will be coming to the Worth Woodsea in order to undertake a vital mission: the elimination of the infamous dark guild Oración Seis.

"The mission is to be a collaborative effort. It… it isn't an official job issued by the Magic Council, as such. As I'm sure you're aware, the Council was dissolved following the… the _incident,_ and it is in no position to be overseeing missions of this scale while it undergoes extensive reform. However, it was a proposal that the Council had been considering for several months before its disbandment, and even though the plans were repeatedly shelved, during that period they gathered a lot of information on their targets, and identified several reliable and risk-minimizing plans of attack. With the recent increase in dark guild activity, some of the Guild Masters have taken it upon themselves to revive those plans. They have put together this union, with the support of the Rune Knights and what remains of the Magic Council, in order to remove the threat that Oración Seis poses to us all."

"And why, exactly, are you telling _me_ this?" That deliberately patronizing tone was a challenge.

Lahar took a deep breath. "I am here on behalf of the Knights and the guilds to request the aid of Cait Shelter in this mission. As I'm sure you are aware, the Worth Woodsea is a highly inhospitable environment. The assistance of a mage guild familiar with the terrain would be invaluable. And…"

The old man glared at him, daring him to continue. Swallowing, the Knight said, "And it would be a good way for certain members of your guild to gain experience doing jobs of this scale, and interacting with mages from other guilds, and… so on."

"In other words, you expect me to send my precious daughter out on an incredibly dangerous mission with a group of total strangers?"

Lahar winced at the scathing words. The worst part was that he completely understood how Roubaul was feeling. After what had happened the last time they had allowed Wendy to go on a mission as a guild mage, the old man's protectiveness was logical; perhaps even admirable. Yet, on the other hand, Lahar had thought long and hard about this job, and he would never have nominated Cait Shelter as a participant to the other Guild Masters if he hadn't come to the conclusion that it was the right thing to do.

"I will not pretend that there won't be risk involved, because against a dark guild like that, there will always be great danger. However, all possible precautions have been taken to ensure the coalition will be successful. The strongest mages of each guild have been put forward for the mission. I have it on good authority that Lamia Scale's Wizard Saint is participating – he's not just a capable combatant, but he's also a responsible leader, and he won't allow any harm to come to the mages under his protection. All I'm saying is that if Wendy does go, she'll be in safe hands. She won't get a better opportunity than this to act as part of a proper coalition."

Roubaul was silent.

"Your assistance in this mission would be of great help to the kingdom. The more guilds we involve in the coalition, the lower the chance of a retaliatory attack from the Balam Alliance. Not to mention, on a job like this, Wendy's healing powers would be invaluable. It's not just that she could gain experience from being with the guild mages, but she could play an active supporting role, and really make a difference. I've seen how impressive her skill is first-hand. Having her as part of this coalition will be beneficial for everyone involved."

At this, Roubaul's eyebrows drew together alarmingly. Bowing his head in submission, Lahar added, "On behalf of the Magic Council, the Rune Knights, and the coalition of mage guilds, I humbly request the aid of Cait Shelter in this mission."

The old man didn't say anything for a long time, and Lahar wondered if he'd actually managed to convince him. In the silence, Roubaul tapped his finger on the ground, and then glanced at the Knight. "Is that all?"

"…Yes, that is all. Thank you for your time."

Lahar stood up and was almost at the door when a sudden thought struck him. "Actually," he said, "It's not. That's all I have to say as an emissary of the Council. Everything I say from here on out is not as a Knight, but as someone who knows Wendy well."

Defiant in the face of the other's thunderous glare, he continued, "If Wendy wants to go on the mission, then let her."

"How dare you-?"

"No, listen to me. I know that she might not want to take part. After everything that happened to her – being lied to and betrayed and everything that she went through in the Tower of Heaven – I can completely understand why she'd never want to go near another mage again, let alone actually go on a job for the Council with a group of complete strangers. And believe me, no one would think any less of her for that.

"But, the thing is, with Wendy… when she came with us on jobs, it wasn't just because she wanted to spend time with Siegrain, or because she wanted to travel to new and exciting places, or anything like that. It was about helping people too. For her, that was what being a mage was all about – stopping dark guilds or destroying evil magic or saving people who were in danger. She never cared that it was dangerous to herself if it meant she could do some good in the world; that's why she learnt magic and practised so hard! From that point of view, Wendy is the most brilliant, most incredible, most exceptional mage that I have ever met in my life. This is an unprecedented chance for her as a young mage, and you don't have the right to deny her that!

"So don't make the decision for her. That's all I ask. Tell her about the mission, and let her make her own choice about what she wants to do. If she doesn't want to go, then that's fine. But if she does want to, if she really does want to use her abilities to try and make this world just that little bit safer for all the people living in it… then let her go. Please."

It was only then that Lahar realized his heart was pounding in his chest. His hand shifted at his side in a gesture that had clearly become automatic, resting his palm on the hilt of a certain blade tucked into his belt, and he felt an ounce of reassurance return to him. Beneath the old man's stony glare, he couldn't help but give a rueful smile.

Taking the silence as confirmation that he had outstayed his welcome, the Knight bowed his head. "That is all I had to say. I hope that you will consider our proposal."

And with that, he left the guild.

* * *

For what seemed like an age, Master Roubaul kept staring after the departed Knight. He gave a world-weary sigh, and his harsh expression relented somewhat. One of the members of his guild ran across to him holding a tankard of ale, which he accepted without a word and downed in one go.

Finally coming to a resolution, he set the tankard down on the ground beside him, and called out, "What do you think, then, Wendy?"

There was no response.

With a slight touch of exasperation, he added, "Come out, Wendy. I know you're there."

There came the distinct sound of rustling material as Wendy drew aside the curtain that she and Carla had been hiding behind and shuffled bashfully into the hut's main room. "Sorry… I didn't mean to spy on you, I just… uh…"

Her Guild Master halted her protests with a firm shake of his head. "Why were you hiding? Didn't you want to see your friend?"

"I did, but… Well, I thought it would be a bit confusing for both of us." She glanced sheepishly down at the ground. After all, both she and Lahar knew by now that it was Siegrain who had killed his brother. Even though Lahar knew exactly what had transpired in the Tower of Heaven, including how and why Siegrain had died – Roubaul had agreed to write to him at Wendy's request once she had fully recovered, in the hope that the impersonal communication would make Lahar understand that he would never be welcome around Cait Shelter again – it would never be an easy thing for the Knight to come to terms with. "I wanted to find out why he was here, before I did something that might just have made things worse."

"You're a kind girl, Wendy," Roubaul remarked, and he said nothing more.

So, after a moment of fidgeting, Wendy spoke up. "Master Roubaul, I… I want to go on the mission."

"Why?" Not an accusation. Just a question.

"Because…" Wendy looked at Carla, and Carla gave her a nod of support. "These past two months have been really fun. It's been great to be back in the guild, resting and relaxing with everyone, and not having to worry about a thing. I've been so happy. But I also had a lot of time to think, and… Not everyone gets to be as happy as me. There are people out there – members of the Council, and mages from other guilds – who are constantly fighting and putting their lives on the line so that we can be safe, and… and I don't think it's right for me to just do nothing. Not when I have the power to do _something._ I have a gift that I can use to help people, so that's exactly what I'm going to do with it."

"Wendy… I know you have fond memories of going on jobs with your friend, but… who's to say that this mission will be the same? There's no guarantee that the mages you'll be working with will care about you. They might look down on you for being young and inexperienced in combat. They might leave you behind if you can't keep up. Just because they're part of a guild doesn't mean they're good people, or that they'll be friendly towards you."

"I know," she said solemnly. "I've been so lucky all my life. My mother, or Jellal, or everyone in Cait Shelter – I've always been surrounded by people who cared about me; good people. And then, when Siegrain took me out into the world beyond this guild, I learnt a lot of things. I met people who were trying to kill me, just because I was in the way. There were cults who wanted to destroy the whole world and everything in it – for no reason, not really; they just wanted to make people suffer! People are cruel, and not just to their enemies, but to their friends as well. People lie. They betray those who love them, and… people get hurt."

She clasped her hands together in front of her and turned her sorrowful gaze towards the ground, and it was clear to everyone who knew her what was running through her mind at that moment: the friend who had died, the Knight who had lost the will to live, and, more than anything else, the man who had given his life for hers as the Tower had fallen. "I don't ever want to feel pain like that again…"

And then, just as suddenly, she broke out into a radiant smile. "But there's so much happiness in the world too. There are so many wonderful people, and so many fantastic things to see and do, and there's so much love and kindness and… and being alive, getting to see all that, is the best thing in the world. For every bad thing that's happened to me, there are a hundred times someone made me smile, and those memories won't ever leave me. Yes, there's hatred as well as kindness, sorrow as well as joy, and evil as well as good, but it doesn't make the world a bad place… I think the fact that we have the freedom to choose is what's important. I'm not afraid to go out there and live."

Roubaul shifted uncomfortably. "I understand your feelings, Wendy, but that doesn't change how dangerous this mission right here and now is going to be."

"I know it'll be dangerous-"

He couldn't help sighing. "I'm not so sure that you do. Going on a mission with normal guild mages won't be like doing Council jobs with Siegrain. He may have been an incredibly irresponsible guardian, but he was very good at what he did. Exceptional, even."

For all that he disliked the man, he couldn't help feeling a grudging respect for his abilities. It was one thing to be a powerful combatant, but working out the truth about his guild so quickly had required a completely different kind of skill, and the speed with which he had picked up the magic Roubaul had taught him, despite having such poor compatibility with it, was nothing short of astounding. Roubaul supposed it was difficult to hate a man who was long gone.

Reluctantly, he continued, "These other guild mages won't be able to fight and protect you as well as he could, and they certainly won't have the knowledge to deal with certain dangerous situations as calmly and effectively."

"I know, but I don't want to depend on other people for my entire life either. It doesn't matter if the people I'm with can't protect me, because I'm going to learn to protect myself. I'm going to go on all sorts of jobs, and I'll learn how to deal with dark magic just as well as Siegrain could. One day, I'll be able to stand on my own as a proper mage. I'll make him proud."

As the silence dragged on, Wendy mustered her courage and bowed in a respectful plea. "This world is beautiful, and I want to protect it. So please, Master Roubaul! Let me go on the mission!"

"Wendy…"

"Can I? Please?"

Slowly, the old man got to his feet and walked over to her. Expecting him to berate her for her actions, she closed her eyes tightly – only to find herself drawn into a hug instead. "Of course you can. If you really wanted to go, I was never going to stop you."

"Really?" she checked, and in complete contrast to her earlier sincerity, the word came out as an excitable, childish squeak. Roubaul had to fight the sudden urge to laugh.

"Yes, really. Your friend the Knight made a very convincing point, and you just confirmed it for me. I just need to make sure that you understand the weight of what you are committing to before you agree to go… but I think you do, don't you?" Without waiting for a response, he turned to the cat who hovered, as always, by her side. "And do you agree with her, Carla?"

"Wendy, going up against one of the most powerful dark guilds in the kingdom? It's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard in my life." She folded her arms and glanced away. "So I guess I'd best go with her and keep her out of trouble."

"Thank you, Carla!" the girl beamed. "And thank you, Master Roubaul."

"You've become a fine young mage, Wendy. I think it's about time that you left this guild and went out into the world."

She gazed at him for a moment. "Well, I'll come back! It's not like I'm leaving forever! Cait Shelter is my home, and I'll be back as soon as the mission is over."

"I know," he said, and he gave a soft smile. "But for the time being, don't you think you should go and catch up with your friend the Knight and tell him your decision?"

"Ah! You're right!"

With that, she jumped into action and sprinted out of the hut, shouting Lahar's name at the top of her voice. Carla rolled her eyes but followed anyway, as she always did, looking out for her friend. Roubaul watched them both go with the pride of a father, and even as he wiped a tear away from his eye, there was peace in his heart.

And thus Wendy's first proper mission as a guild mage began.

* * *

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

"Why?"

Until now, everything had been going as expected. It hadn't been a perfect mission, just like Master Roubaul had warned her. The coalition's plan had been torn to pieces almost instantly. There had been trouble; had been unforeseen danger. Even now, she and Carla were at the mercy of their enemies, hostages in a dark place with no way of knowing if anyone was coming to rescue them – or if anyone was still alive to try and do so.

"Why…?"

But that was understandable. That was a consequence of the risks involved in this collaborative mission – a proper mission, against truly scary opponents, with fellow guild mages rather than with a Wizard Saint who generally knew what he was doing.

A mission without Siegrain.

Without…

"Siegrain…"

It might have been a dream, except she remembered everything that had happened up to this point with perfect clarity.

Meeting the representatives of the other mage guilds. Being overwhelmed with shyness at having to go into a room full of strangers who all seemed to know each other already, with no mutual acquaintance around who could introduce her to them. Greeting these experienced mages, all of whom were much older than her, not as the friend of a Wizard Saint who was just tagging along for the company, but as an equal; a comrade. Having her trepidation eased by the friendliness of everyone that she met, and feeling warm nostalgia and a sense of belonging amongst their optimistic, adventurous spirits.

Excitement as the mission had begun. Exasperation at how quickly the plan had broken down and mages had started dashing off on their own, in total contrast to the discipline of the Rune Knights under Lahar's command. Panic, when Oración Seis had appeared from nowhere, far before they were ready to fight. Comprehension, when Roubaul's words about Siegrain being truly exceptional at what he did hit home in the midst of the deadly battle. Guilt, that she could only hide, unable to help, too overwhelmed by the chaos and the madness of the confrontation to even invoke any support magic. And terror, when the enemy leader, Brain, had spotted her, and kidnapped her.

She had grabbed Carla's paw at the last moment, and the two of them had been taken to a cave somewhere deep in the forest. She had been certain they were going to die. But Brain hadn't killed them. He had kept them waiting in the darkness for an hour without explanation. And then he had brought them to a room lit with sacrificial candles; a place resonating with prayers lost to time, where priestesses had once sung requiems for the ghosts who passed through; and there, in a coffin, had been-

-dead but not dead, gone but somehow not gone, a farewell that had not quite lasted forever-

- _We'll meet again_ -

- _him._

"Why…?"

Yes, it might have been a dream, only she was older now, and wiser; she knew all too well the difference between dream and memory and the world through which she did not walk alone.

"Siegrain…"

The fear had gone from her demeanour; her eyes shone with baffled wonder. She no longer saw the dark mages circling them like sharks, or the shadows that danced in this ancient place of death. She saw only him. She stood up, slowly, and walked towards him, reaching out her hand to him but stopping at the last minute – as if she wanted to touch him and prove that he was real; as if she were afraid that doing so would break this spell of memory and return her to a world where he was not.

Brain was examining her every move with a clinical curiosity. "This man was once a member of the Magic Council, and hence he knows the location of Nirvana, and all the details of its binding. You will heal him, and then he will reveal them to us."

"Nirvana," Wendy murmured, as if she hadn't heard anything else the dark mage had said. "Yes… That was where we met." And there was a wondrous brilliance to her voice.

"But he died!" Carla shouted suddenly. The members of Oración Seis glanced immediately to the little cat; Wendy did not, for she was no longer perceiving anything from the world around her. "He died!" she repeated, a demand for an explanation. "In the Tower of Heaven! I _saw_ him die!"

Brain gave a chuckle. "He did not die. How he survived channelling that much raw magic through his body I do not know, but he is not dead. Then again, it would be just as wrong to say he is alive. He has not woken since we pulled his body from the wreckage of the Tower."

As if to illustrate his point, he reached over Wendy's head and brushed the cheek of the bound man with his fingers, possessively; mockingly. "See? He does not breathe and his heart does not beat, but there is still magic within him. A tiny little fragment of life."

A shiver ran through Carla's fur as she watched. She remembered how Wendy had been upon their return from the Tower, and she had only been inside the crystal for a few seconds. Was this what would have become of her if he had not pulled her out in time? Stripped of her senses and her self; cut off completely from the real world; not truly dead, but not alive either, trapped between both and utterly alone?

Now Brain rested his hand on Wendy's shoulder. Even that was not enough to remind her that there were other people in the room, though Brain did not seem to notice. "You are the Maiden of the Sky. You possess the gift of true healing magic, once thought lost to time. You will bring this man back to us."

"Siegrain…" she whispered. "How…? I don't understand…"

Mistaking her confusion for reluctance, Brain tightened his grip. The pain caused Wendy to jump; she looked up at him with startled eyes. "You will heal Jellal. You owe him. He once saved your life, didn't he?"

Far from being intimidated, a sad smile spread across her face. "We saved each other, so many times, back and forth… Neither of us owes the other anything."

She stepped forward, breaking out of Brain's grip without even realizing she was doing so. Ever so gently, she raised a hand and placed it over her best friend's heart. Green light, the colour of spring grass, the warmth of new life, radiated from her palm as she closed her eyes and called upon her power. An unearthly breeze filled the chamber, causing the candle flames to flicker but not dousing a single one.

Carla wanted to stop her. She wanted to scream that using her healing magic on a man this close to death – who was, by the definition of most doctors, already technically dead – was far too dangerous. She wanted to protest that this was giving Oración Seis exactly what they wanted. She wanted to warn her that the man in front of her, whatever he may have done in his dying moments, was still the man who had destroyed the Magic Council and come within inches of doing the same thing to the world.

But she did not. She knew better than anyone how much Wendy loved this man, and she would not deny her the chance to see him one more time.

The glow faded from Wendy's hand. The gentle wind died down. She took a step back and looked up at him anxiously. He was still, but not completely so. There were signs of life within him that had not been present before: the slight but steady rise and fall of his chest; the whisper of his breath; the echo of his heartbeat. He opened his eyes, slowly and with great reluctance, as if that single act caused him immense pain. He stared down at her without a word, and she stared back.

And the slightest expression of puzzlement crossed her face.

Before either of them could speak, Brain shoved her roughly away. She hit the wall of the cave and slumped to the floor with a squeak of pain. Carla immediately ran over to her side; the dark mages paid them no heed. They had what they wanted from the girls.

"So, you've returned to us, Jellal," Brain greeted him smoothly. He did not flinch as that silent stare turned towards him. As calmly as ever, he undid the restraints that had been binding his unconscious form inside the coffin and allowed him to step down onto firm ground. "It has been many years since we last spoke. If you recall, we had a certain business agreement-"

Only, Brain chose that moment to lay his hand on the other's shoulder. Maybe it was a physical reminder of who held the power in this situation. Maybe it was simply a friendly gesture of reassurance. What it was supposed to be didn't matter. What it was perceived as was an act of aggression.

He had been passive before; unresponsive, silent and still, slowly stirring from two months spent on the border between life and death. In that instant, the act of awakening seemed to complete all at once. No sooner had Brain touched him than he swept downwards with his hand, a sudden sharp motion, and an enormous pillar of light engulfed Brain. The raw energy punched a hole straight through the solid stone of the cave floor and drove the dark mage down with it.

The other members of Oración Seis let out cries of alarm, springing as one into action. They might have been rushing to help their leader, or they might have been closing in for an attack. Again, their motives made no difference. They were getting too close too quickly and that was all that mattered.

He spun around to face them in between heartbeats; with two slashes of his arm he conducted that immense power bursting out of his body. Twin beams of golden energy tore through his startled opponents, hurling them aside.

At last he turned to Wendy. She froze and so did he, with his hand raised in preparation to strike her. Looking up at her best friend in shock, she suddenly understood what she should have noticed from the start: he was scared. No, that was an understatement. He was _terrified_. There was panic in his shallow, rapid breathing; in the raw, uncontrolled surge of his magic; in the way he perceived everything as an enemy, even her. And she should have been afraid of him, but what she really felt in that moment was an overwhelming empathetic concern.

"Siegrain…" she whispered, and contained within that one word was all the pain of seeing her strong friend so vulnerable.

He slowly lowered his hand, and the sense of the feral magic snapping around them withdrew somewhat, but the wide-eyed stare he gave her was no less agitated than before. "Who are you?"

Here.

In this very same forest.

Not their first reunion, but their second. Not the first time their reunion had shattered her heart into pieces. Not the first time he had forgotten her. The second.

As if that somehow made it any more bearable. _As if._

Someone else whispered a response, in a voice that might have been her own. "Don't you… remember me?"

He said nothing more, and that was answer enough. Wendy did not speak either. She couldn't. She just kept staring at him, as if that earnest, tearful gaze could miraculously implore him to stop this twisted idea of a joke and acknowledge her. Carla glanced between the two of them, unable to comprehend what was happening, for Wendy's sorrow was her sorrow too.

And into the silence there came laughter; a dark, cynical chuckling that rose like a colony of bats from the brand new hole in the floor. "This is an unexpected turn of events," Brain mused, unfazed by the paralysis that had overtaken the three of them. "It seems we will have to change the plan." His next words formed a smirking command. "Seize the girl. She can be our hostage."

"NO!"

At first, Wendy didn't realize who had given that desperate shout. She felt the touch of magic around her – magic so familiar that just perceiving it was painful, and yet at the same time ever so different to how she remembered it: harsher, wilder, unfinished around the edges. He seized her under one arm and Carla under the other and the three of them shot through the darkness. A single bound took them to the cave entrance, and then they were racing across the lake and out into the forest, with the outraged cries of the Oración Seis mages disappearing into the distance.

Even as Wendy felt a burst of happiness within her chest – her best friend had saved her, just like he always used to; just like he promised he always would – she could not shake the feeling of wrongness that had settled over her. She remembered the feel of his magic as well as she knew her own, and there was something off about it. He was using it wrong. He was fast, yes, but he was using it to increase the speed at which he bounded along the ground – he had reverted back to how he used to use his power before he learnt to fly with it. For reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on, that understanding caused her heart to twist painfully, and she felt no small measure of relief when he came to a stop in an isolated forest clearing.

No sooner had he set her and Carla down on the ground than he placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed at her intently. The desperation in his eyes gave her heart another merciless wrench. "You're the one who brought me back, aren't you?" When she nodded, he insisted, "Can you restore my memories too?"

Eyes widening, she shook her head. "I can't… my magic can't do that… I'm sorry…"

An expression of dismay crossed his face. "Oh. I see."

With that quiet lament, he let go of her, turned away, and took a few steps towards the forest – before coming to a sudden stop once again. He stared up at the sky in silence as an unfriendly breeze rustled through his hair.

Carla folded her arms. "Don't tell me he only saved us because he thought you could-"

"Carla, shush." Though she spoke firmly, Wendy wasn't cross. She knew that Carla was only talking like that because she was still struggling to make sense of the situation. She was doing the same, wasn't she?

She stared up at her friend's silhouette, unable to guess what might have been going through his mind. Another wave of sadness swept through her. To have come so close to being reunited with the best friend she had thought dead, and for him to have forgotten her… the pain was too much to bear. She wanted nothing more than to run away and curl up into a ball and cry until someone came along to wake her from this nightmare.

But… if that was what it was like for her, how must he be feeling? At least she had the memories of all the times they had spent together. What did he have? A vision of his face when he had looked at her; of the incredible pain in his eyes when she had asked if he remembered her; of that terrified, haunted shadow hiding beneath his every word – all those things flashed through her mind, and though each one gave her heart another agonizing twist, far more than that, she felt an unending compassion.

Before she knew what she was doing, she had run over and wrapped her arms around him from behind. He tensed reflexively, and she felt his unstable magic spiking again at the unexpected threat, but she didn't let go. "It's okay," she whispered to him. "Please, don't be afraid. It's okay." Not knowing what else to say, she just kept clinging on to him, refusing to let him be swept away.

He began to shake, and when he spoke, he sounded like he was on the verge of tears. "I don't remember anything." Desperate, scared, lost. "I don't know who I am. Help me. Please. I don't…"

"It's okay," she repeated, because even if it wasn't, what else could she do to help? "You're not alone. There's no need to be afraid."

"Do you… do you know who I am?"

"I do." She let go of him and he turned slowly to face her. Trying to be reassuring, trying to be strong, she smiled at him, even though it was breaking her heart. "When I knew you, you were called Siegrain… but I think your real name is Jellal."

"Jellal…?" he echoed.

"Do you remember anything?" she prompted, only to have him shake his head again. "That's okay. It's not your fault."

"Why am I here? Who were those people?"

"They were the dark guild, Oración Seis. They're the enemy. I'm here as part of a coalition of legal guilds on a mission to stop their evil schemes."

"A dark guild…"

Noticing his slight frown, Wendy explained, "You used to work for the Magic Council, hunting down dark guilds and other mages who broke the law. We did a few jobs together…"

"Why was I with a dark guild?"

The sharp edge of panic had returned to his tone. She heard it, and reached out to him, taking his hand in her own. It was nothing more than a reassurance that he was not alone, but that one simple gesture meant so much to a man who had nothing.

"Oración Seis are looking for an ancient, sealed magic called Nirvana. They seem to think you know where it is, and they were going to make you tell them." After a pause, she took the plunge, and continued, "We went to Nirvana together once. I showed you where it was. Though it was a long time ago and I don't remember the way, and I can't sense it as well as I used to be able to, not unless I get a lot closer first-"

"Nirvana," he repeated. He glanced out across the forest. "I might… know where that is…"

Her grip tightened around his hand. "I'm glad. Even if you don't remember that I was there with you, you do remember that you were there, and that… that makes me happy."

"I'm sorry," he said, and it was sincere and honest, for he had forgotten how to lie. "I'm sorry I don't remember you. I wish I could… but I don't know anyone… I don't even know who I am…"

"Oh, I know!" Wendy exclaimed suddenly. "Do you remember Natsu? I only met him properly today, but I think he was there in the Tower of Heaven too when you died, or lost your memory… So you might remember him…" As before, he repeated the name, only to shake his head in disappointment. Undaunted, she tried, "Well, what about Erza?"

That got a response. His eyes opened wide. "Erza!"

"Do you remember something?" Wendy asked eagerly.

"I… no. I don't remember anything." Again, his gaze left hers and turned towards the sky, seeing perhaps something else entirely. "But when I hear that name, I feel…" Without realizing he was doing it, he placed his hand over his heart. "Something from a very long time ago. Is Erza someone I used to know?"

She smiled for him and didn't cry. "I don't know. I only really met her properly today. She's here on the mission as well, like Natsu and a load of others. She's a kind person. Plus, she's a really powerful mage, and she knows a lot more about magic than I do. I don't know how to get your memories back, but she might, or she might know someone who does. Once this mission is over, I'll go round all the guilds in the kingdom until I find someone who knows how to help you."

"You'd… really do that, for me?"

"Of course." She wasn't sure whether it was his doubt that upset her more, or how clearly he hadn't been expecting anyone to show him kindness. She didn't let either show. Instead, she smiled again, and spoke as firmly as she could; the assertiveness that he needed to hear right now was something she had picked up from him. "But, in the meantime, I think it might be worth talking to Erza, if you can. You should go and find her."

He pulled his hand out of her grip and took two strides back into the forest. It was the first time she had seen him act with purpose since they had been reunited – but no sooner had that thought crossed her mind than he froze mid-step. His inexplicable shaking had resumed; once again, she heard the desperation of a hunted animal in his breathing, and it was all she could do not to throw her arms around him again as she ran over to him. "What's wrong? What is it?"

"I… I'm scared," he told her, and the truth of those words brought her to the verge of tears. She had always been the one who was scared, and always it had been his confidence and strength which had reassured her. He had saved her so many times, and given her courage, and she…

He said, "I don't know who I am. I feel… I feel as though I'm a bad person. I'm scared of remembering… I did something terrible, didn't I?"

For a while she said nothing, and then, slowly, she met his gaze. "It's true that you did some bad things, and you hurt a lot of people."

"I…"

But before he could say anything else, a pure radiant smile took over her face and stopped him in his tracks. "But you also helped a lot of people. You did a lot of good things for the Council, and you fought so hard against dark guilds and evil mages. The mission we're on today is only possible because we're following a plan you came up with ages ago. You always protected me, no matter what. And at the end of everything, you died in order to save everyone… you died saving Natsu and Erza and thousands of other people you were never going to meet. You died saving _me_."

She balled her fists and glared up at him defiantly. "You're a good man, and don't let anyone _ever_ tell you otherwise!"

Speechless, he stared down at the determined girl.

"So go and find Erza," Wendy ordered him, with her hands on her hips. "She might be able to help you. Just focus on doing that. You don't have to think about anything else right now. Oh, and don't let Oración Seis get near Nirvana. If you run into any dark mages, kick their butts, just like you used to, okay?"

"I…" he managed, but nothing more.

"And don't be afraid of who you were, or of who you are now. You are you, and… and you're not alone. No matter where you are or what you're doing; whether you remember me or not – I'll always be here. You can come and find me at any time. So there's no need to be scared."

There was another long moment of silence. He asked, "Before, were… were we friends?"

"Yeah. Best friends."

And he smiled at her, just like he always used to. "I'm glad. I must have been a good man, to have had a best friend like you."

"Yeah," she smiled back. "You were."

"Thank you," he said, and he truly meant it. "For everything."

In the next moment there was golden light swirling around his body, and then he was gone, bounding through the trees and out of sight.

Wendy stared into the forest after him. She remained silent and unmoving as the minutes ticked by, until Carla, worried that something might have happened to her friend, murmured, "Wendy…?"

"Carla?"

There was a tremor in that word that Wendy hadn't quite managed to hide, and the cat gave her a suspicious look. "Are you crying?"

"I…" Wendy raised her hand and tried self-consciously to wipe away the tears from her eyes. "I'm crying because… because…" she sniffed. "He didn't die, so I think I'm allowed to cry over him, after all…"

"Why didn't you tell him, Wendy? Everything that he did – the Tower of Heaven; betraying the Council; all of that. If you told him, he might have remembered you."

"He might have done. But I think… I think that if he heard about what he'd done, he'd be very upset. And I'd much rather he was able to be happy."

Still, the cat shook her head. "But I don't understand, Wendy. Why would you tell him he is a good man? I know how you feel about him, but it doesn't change the fact that he hurt so many people!"

"I know. I do know, Carla. Master Roubaul always says that some people are naturally drawn towards light, and others towards darkness. But Siegrain… he was neither black nor white. He had a power with great potential for good, and great potential for evil, but it never pulled him towards either – he always had, and he always will have, the freedom to choose that for himself."

"So… you told him he was a good man in the hope that that's what he'll choose to become?"

Softly, Wendy shook her head, still with that same sad smile. "He already made his choice, back when the Tower fell. He saved me, even if he doesn't remember doing it; he chose to die as a good man rather than live as an evil one. But, the thing is… you and I are the only ones who know the truth about what happened in the Tower of Heaven. To the Council, to the Knights, to the rest of the world – he's just a villain whose plan was foiled. If he's surrounded by people who only see him as an evil man, it could lead him to believe that that's all he is… that he has no choice… that there can be no future for the good man he is trying to become…

"I told him he is a good man because I know that he is deep down, and so that he will know he always has that choice. If Erza really does care about him – if she really does understand him – then she'll do the same, whether or not she can help him remember. And then he'll see that it isn't just me, and that there are two of us who believe in him, and then he might be able to believe in himself, and realize that the choice has always been his to make, no matter what the rest of the world says. And then he might find a reason to live… to keep fighting… he might even be able to find happiness…"

"But what about _your_ happiness, Wendy?" Carla's protest was almost a shout. "Think about yourself, for a change! What if he goes and remembers this Erza woman, but not you? It's not fair!"

"I am happy, Carla," she said, with a trembling smile. "I'm crying because… because I'm happy… that's all…"

"Oh, Wendy. You've become so strong…"

"It doesn't matter how many times he forgets me, Carla. I'll always find him, and I'll always be his friend." She stared resolutely down the path he had taken into the forest. "What do you think, Carla? Third time lucky?"

Tears sprung to Carla's eyes, and she hurriedly glanced away, harrumphing. "I think that we have bigger things to worry about right now. Like being alone in the middle of the forest with all of Oración Seis out looking for us, and you just sent away the one man who could have protected us."

"…I did do that, didn't I? Oops…" The two of them looked at each other and somehow, through their tears, they managed to laugh. "But, I've been protected by other people for as long as I can remember. From now on, I'm going to be the one to protect those I care about in any way I can, and I'm going to make sure that they can always be happy. Siegrain will fight his battle, and we've got our own."

"…You're right," her friend conceded. "I bet the others are really worrying about us right now."

Wendy nodded vigorously. "They might still be hurt from the battle too, and I'm supposed to be their healer. We should meet up with them as soon as possible, and come up with a new plan."

"And if Siegrain helps us, we might still be able to get to Nirvana before our enemies do."

"Yeah, we could put a guard around it!"

"Or lure the dark guild away from it, by _pretending_ to put a guard around it, when we're actually as far from the true location as possible…"

"And lead them into a trap!"

The two girls grinned at each other.

Carla said, softly, "He really would be proud of you, you know. And, Wendy… I'm sure that one day, he'll be able to tell you that himself."

"Thank you, Carla." Wendy smiled up at the brilliant blue sky. "And until that day comes, I'm not going to stop working hard. Right now, we have friends to meet up with and bad guys to take down. So, let's go, Carla!"

"Yeah," agreed the cat, flying up to meet Wendy's enthusiastic high-five. "Let's go."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** And this is it. The end. I suppose it isn't really a happy ending, as such. Yes, I wanted him to remember Wendy as well, but it just couldn't happen. If the previous chapter was about Jellal finally choosing to become a good man, then this one is all about how much Wendy has grown. When they first met at the very start of this story, and Wendy believed he had forgotten her, she fled from him in tears and almost got herself killed. This time, she stays._

 _Now, even as she is suffering, because Jellal has forgotten her again, she recognizes that he's suffering more. Though it hurts her, she becomes strong for him in the way that he always was for her. She gives him the courage to live and keep fighting, and makes sure he knows his life is worth something, because she believes in him as a good man. If Erza did the same, a lot of grief in canon could have been avoided._ _And Wendy keeps pressing on as well: goes to find her own friends; to fight her own battles. As Carla says, she's become so strong. More than strong enough to stand as the equal of her Fairy Tail comrades-to-be, despite her age._

 _And, of course, there's hope. Jellal won't forget her forever. One day, seven years in the future, we know they will meet again._

 _But that's another story. This one is over. All that remains is for me to say an enormous thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, favourited, or otherwise supported this story over the past thirty-three weeks. To those who have been keeping up from the start, I salute your perseverance. To those who have caught up in the last couple of weeks, I salute your bravery in taking on this project. Knowing that other people are enjoying what I write is the best motivation there is. So, honestly, thank you all. I hope you've enjoyed the story. I hope we meet again, in another writing project in the not-too-distant future. ~CS_


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